


Life's For the Living

by BawdyBean, bookscorpion



Series: The World of Us [10]
Category: Shadowrun: Hong Kong, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Eskel Whump (The Witcher), Fluff, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdyBean/pseuds/BawdyBean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion/pseuds/bookscorpion
Summary: “Eskel is late. He’s never late, not like this, he goes out on the path a month at time and comes home to see me. Regular as the cycle of the moon.” Blindly Geralt reached a hand out behind Duncan for Rhys.Eskel doesn't return from the Path. Finding him will only be the first challenge for the others.Content info in the ANIn the latestchapter:Wiggling just a little bit in Duncan’s arms Eskel settled in and closed his eyes though he remained wide awake. “So, tell me what you did that was interesting while I was gone? Then I’ll tell you about the gargoyle.”Catching up, and then things catch up with Eskel.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Rhys Morgan/Duncan Wu
Series: The World of Us [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612003
Comments: 39
Kudos: 14





	1. Whistle Down the Wind

Geralt sat on the bench on the small deck outside the front door of Corvo. When he’d started his evening out there it was with a bottle of Fiorano and his gwent deck, by now the bottle was long dry and the deck was tied back up with a strap of leather. The sun sank lower, scattering orange and red rays along the horizon.

B.B. walked by. “If there is nothing else you need Sir, I will retire to my house for the night?”

“Nah. Thanks B.B. I’ll head in after a while, I’m fine.” Except Geralt wasn’t fine. Eskel should have been back by now and he wasn’t. He’d left to work the Path a month and a half ago. Eskel stuck to a strict schedule of work—one month—and then he returned without fail to visit, staying for at least a week before setting out again.

Eskel was two weeks overdue. And Geralt was antsy.

Flipping his trophy knife over in his hand while he sat on the bench and watched the horizon Geralt contemplated his plan. B.B. had politely not commented on the fact that Geralt was fully kitted out in his Viper armor, both swords on his back. He could go now. Start looking for Eskel. Maybe he had been injured or was stuck at some Gods awful noble's place trying to fulfill a contract that simply couldn't be.

The problem was Geralt only had a rough idea of where Eskel traveled. The general areas he hunted for contracts and no more. If he was this late maybe he’d ventured off his usual routes. Worse, maybe he was dead. Geralt gritted his teeth and refused to entertain that thought. It would do him no good to leave now when it was nearing dark. He might see fine in it but no temple or hospital would let him in to look after hours.

Still Geralt sat on the bench and brooded, flipping his knife and planning to leave at first light. Darkness fell, the servants went to their houses and slept. And Geralt stared at the horizon for any sign of Eskel.

Duncan was thankful for the fact that orks could see well in the dark. It was impossible to accurately judge the time of day when entering the portal, and while it had been morning in Wales, it was almost night in Toussaint.

The moon was barely a sliver, but the stars spilled across the sky in glittery splendor. Stepping out of the patch of wood they had chosen to hide the portal in, Duncan stood and just looked his fill. Even in Wales, far away from the sprawl, the sky never was like this. 

Rhys came up behind him and slipped his hand into Duncan's. They stood for a while, holding hands, leaning into each other, and breathed the sweet, clean air. 

Their horses were patient with them but eventually, Jasper nickered and stomped impatiently. Duncan turned to him and brushed his hand through Jasper's short, bristly mane. "Yeah, let's go."

Deciding to walk, they led the horses down the path to Corvo Bianco. Duncan watched Rhys and grinned. With knee-high boots, leather pants and a doublet in purple so dark it was almost black, Rhys looked his best and Duncan was sure both Geralt and Eskel would appreciate it just as much as he did. 

Duncan reached out and gave a tug on Rhys' ponytail as it swung gently in the rhythm of his steps. "You should wear those boots at home sometimes."

Rhys flashed him a grin. "Oh, should I? And what would you wear?"

Duncan shrugged. "Nothing, of course."

Gently bickering, they reached Corvo and put their horses in the stable next to Roach. Scorpion wasn't there. Duncan frowned, but maybe Eskel had had something to do. He'd surely be back by tomorrow.

The little twinge of worry came back with a vengeance the moment they walked up to the house and found Geralt, coming to meet them in long strides. He was wearing armor, right down to the swords. And his face fell for a moment when he saw them, even though he recovered quickly.

Duncan caught him in an embrace. "What's wrong?"

***

Arms wrapped around Geralt like steel bands and he slumped into Duncan’s hold, pressing his face against whatever part of Duncan it had contacted. It wasn’t Eskel, but Geralt was relieved to see the orks just the same. Maybe now he could really _do_ something about the situation. Duncan would help him find Eskel surely and-

Geralt let out a long heavy sigh, he was getting ahead of himself.

“Eskel is late. He’s never late, not like this, he goes out on the path a month at time and comes home to see me. Regular as the cycle of the moon.” Blindly Geralt reached a hand out behind Duncan for Rhys.

“I don’t know what’s wrong but something is _really_ wrong. It has to be for him to not come back when he said he would. A day or two, that’s one thing— delayed on his last contract maybe. But it's been almost two weeks since when he should have returned.” Squeezing Rhys’ hand without looking Geralt inhaled the scent of Duncan. It was still lightly laced with Rhys’ smell as well and it helped him find his thoughts. 

“I’m heading out in the morning to see if I can find any word or pick up his trail. Anything. I have to find him.” All the reasons why, Geralt left unsaid. 

The Path was a dangerous place. Eskel could be anywhere—injured, bleeding, comatose in a healers' temple somewhere. Maybe even locked up in a prison under some pissant noble or another, though Geralt doubted that. Eskel was fairly talented at both talking his way out and breaking out.

***

Rhys hadn't been overly worried when Scorpion hadn't been at the stable, but hearing Geralt's words made his heartbeat spike. He didn't need Geralt to explain the implications of Eskel being _this_ late. Maybe it was nothing, but it could also be so many things he'd rather not think about.

He gave a tug on Geralt's hand. "Come with us to the house. You're of no use to anyone like this, you look like you haven't slept in a week."

Geralt hesitated but when Duncan gave him a little encouraging push, he led the way. Inside, Rhys drew Geralt into another embrace, hugging him tight and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. 

"I will ask Artrí to look for Eskel. He can do that, and if Eskel is staying in one place and isn't too far away, he should be able to find him. But it might take a while, until morning at the very least, maybe longer." Rhys cupped Geralt's face in his hands. "It will still be faster and cover more ground than you casting about with no clear idea where to start."

Behind them, Duncan had put down their saddle bags inside the door. Rhys could see his thoughts racing, and the little anxious fidgets, even though Duncan worked hard not to let it show. But just the way he ran his hand over his mohawk and fiddled with the straps of his leather gambeson were a clear sign.

***

Duncan started unbuckling his armor. Rhys was right, there was no sense in waiting around all ready to go. They could be on their way in a matter of minutes if need be.

"Have you eaten?" Duncan thought he could guess the answer. And it would be something to keep them occupied for at least a bit. He doubted he would be able to sleep, but maybe he could get Geralt to. 

With the gambeson off and laid on top of the saddle bags, Duncan came to take Geralt's hand. "Come, there's no sense in waiting all kitted out. Rest a little, as much as you can. We'll help you look for Eskel, I'm sure Artrí can find him."

***

"I-" Geralt thought hard, retracing the steps of his day, "-I had a bottle of wine to drink." With an aimless shrug Geralt stood with his hand in Duncan's. "But no, I guess no food really. I've been sitting outside watching for Eskel."

Taken to his bedroom Geralt looked at his bed, their bed—the one he'd shared with Eskel for years now. The covers were as pristine as the last time they'd been made days ago. Duncan tugged at his hand and Geralt stood rooted to the spot.

"I've meditated. I can't sleep." Geralt defended himself and the spotless state of the bed.

"We both know meditation isn't the same. Come on. Lay down and I'll bring you a snack." Duncan pulled at Geralt by both hands and then urged him onto the bed.

At the first breath it was there, just like Geralt had known it would be. The scent of Eskel strong and fierce—juniper, bourbon, and a manly sweat. Immediately Geralt wanted to cry.

The bed dipped when Duncan came to sit beside him. "We'll find him. Let Artrí have time to track him down. Then we'll go get him." There was a worry in Duncan's voice that ate at Geralt.

Sniffling back his tears Geralt resigned himself to not being able to do anything again. "Alright." Duncan was between him and the head of the bed, which made it easier for Geralt to resolutely still not lie down.

Right up until Duncan reached in front of him and unbuckled his sword belt. "Come on. You have until morning at least." Huge hands lifted the swords off of him and very carefully tipped them against the wall. "Armor too. You are not sleeping in that, because there is no way it's comfortable and I don't want to hug it. Neither does Rhys."

The poor attempt at humor got a weak watery snort from Geralt and he stood to shrug out of his gambeson. Duncan helped him with his leathers and boots.

The covers were pulled back and Duncan picked Geralt up. Setting him in the middle of the bed. 

And there Geralt waited until Duncan returned from Marlene's kitchen with a platter of cheeses and hardboiled eggs. With Duncan sitting next to him, Geralt ate each bite little by little as Duncan presented it to his mouth.

Surprisingly, Geralt did find he was sleepy when the food started settling. It wasn't too long before he caught himself nodding off in Duncan's arms.

***

Rhys padded up the stairs on bare feet after having carried the saddlebags to the guest house. Duncan had carried Geralt there, already half asleep. Now, Rhys found Geralt in Duncan's arms, with Duncan wrapped around him protectively. Guarding his sleep. Duncan looked at Rhys with unguarded worry in his eyes.

Shaking his head, Artrí hadn't come back yet, Rhys came to join them on the bed. He slipped under the covers and nestled into Geralt, held hands with Duncan on top of him. Eventually, both of them fell asleep.

Rhys was woken by Artrí snorting in his ear, and by the sudden smell of bear. He sat up, with Geralt and Duncan coming awake behind him, and slung his arms around Artrí's neck, burying his hands in the fur there, and sharing Artrí's thoughts.

"Thank you." Rhys scritched Artrí behind the ears and then turned to the others who had been waiting more or less patiently. Artrí sat down in front of the bed, his huge head resting on the blankets they had pushed back. Duncan reached out to pet him, but kept his eyes on Rhys.

"Eskel is not all that far from here. It's a little hard to judge, maybe a couple of hours by horse? He's hurt and in bad shape, but not in immediate danger. And there are people around him. It sounds like he's being held there. I'll go take a look myself, in astral space. It won't take long, can you please watch my body in the meantime?" There was a ward here, so he was reasonably safe, but Rhys still didn't like leaving his body behind without someone watching it.

***

Geralt reached his hand out to Artrí, letting the bear sniff his palm. “Hey there, I'l get you a whole plate of sticky sausages for finding him.” Artrí bumped into Geralt’s hand and Geralt gave a weak smile. Eskel wasn’t dead. They could go get him. Kill every bastard who hurt him.

“Do whatever you need to, I’ll watch you with Duncan.” Already Geralt was crawling off the bed to make more room and to get dressed. He looked around, his armor wasn’t here. Hells this wasn’t even _his_ room. Momentarily disoriented, Geralt realized that Duncan must have carried him to the ork’s guest house after he fell asleep. Gods, he must have been truly exhausted to have slept through that.

Taking up a seat in a spare chair, Geralt bounced his knee rapidly, watching as Rhys laid down and got comfortable on the bed. Then Rhys went limp and it appeared as if he had simply passed out. Duncan sat, leaned back against the headboard and ran a hand through his hair. It was a nervous habit of Duncan’s that Geralt had picked up on.

In a puff of ozone Artrí disappeared as well. Geralt got up, too antsy to sit and wandered the room. Looking at the items the orks had collected and kept here. Rhys had decorated the room with dozens of dried, pressed plant clippings, neatly stacked between pieces of glass, the corners safely wrapped in leather. Duncan had a painting, big and splashed colorfully on a wooden shield, that Geralt _knew_ came from a troll near Oxenfurt he’d introduced him to.

“I’ll kill them, you know that. Whoever they are, if they took Eskel and are keeping him, I don’t think they are good men. They are just as much monsters as an alghoul.” There was a distinct finality to Geralt’s statement. He wasn’t asking permission, he was stating a fact.

“And I know Rhys won’t be alright with that. So when it’s done, you take care of him and I’ll take care of Eskel.” Geralt turned to look at Duncan, staring right at him. If anyone would understand this save maybe Lambert, it would be Duncan.

Geralt got a clenched jaw and nod in return. For him, that was enough.

Wiggling his fingers where the dimeritrium shackles held them stretched above his head, Eskel tried to keep the blood flowing to them. It was a useless activity though. Sometime during the night he’d passed out again and the sagging of his weight on his shoulders combined with the cold of the predawn morning had left everything from his elbows up numb.

No matter how much he stretched and curled them, Eskel had no way to even know if the numbness was from loss of circulation now, or cold. For a moment Eskel thought of standing on his tiptoes in his iron cage, to relieve the pressure on his abused shoulder joints, but then he thought of the flood of pain that would come when the sensation returned and decided it didn’t matter anymore anyway.

It wasn’t like anyone was coming for him. That thought was bitter and hurt worse than anything his captors had done to him so far, but it was true. They’d told him again and again. It had been… how long had it been? Eskel didn’t know. But no one had come. They didn’t know where he was. _He_ didn’t know where he was. And when he had managed to escape the cage before they shackled his hands to the roof of it, he’d been caught halfway out of the maze that circled out of this horrid pit.

Beaten bloody and drugged for days, Eskel knew that trying it again was as useless as flexing his fingers.

Ice cold water splashed over Eskel’s face, dripping down his body and soaking into the threadbare linen tunic and braies he was left in. “Hey, puss peepers, look here!” 

Eskel made the mistake of looking up slowly. 

The words 'fuck you' were ready to form on his lips when a pile of dust was blown in his face, making him cough. Fuck, no. Not again. “Fu-” Eskel tried to breath in but his lungs contracted harshly, “-k -you.”

Eskel’s insolence only earned him a second bucket of ice cold water and he shivered uncontrollably. Maybe he would die here, that would really cook their goose. A dead witcher was no good as a pet witcher.

There was a lot of activity in the camp. At first Eskel ignored it like he tried to ignore everything. But then it became clear through his haze that people were shouting and pointing and the sounds echoed angrily in his head.

“Shu- Shut up!” Looking up blearily, Eskel tried his best to glare at all the knights around him who would not let him die in peace. They _roared_ loudly. Too loudly. “Sh-ut!” The knights roared again, inhuman and challenging. Eskel squinted at the rim of the pit where everyone was pointing and shouting.

On its hind legs stood a bear. Roaring. It dropped down, pacing back and forth, then stood up and roared once more. As soon as Eskel saw it, the bear took off running along the edge of the rim and then disappeared.

Artrí.

Eskel burst out in a sickly laugh.

“What’re you laughing at, fuckface?” A knight whirled and poked his sword into Eskel’s cage, pushing it against his ribs.

This time, Eskel gave no rude reply. Only took a deep breath that made his chest hurt and shoulders ache enough to drive away his laughter, then smiled calmly at the knight without a word.

***

Rhys swirled around Artrí, their auras intertwining one last time before Rhys send him back to guard Eskel. Sinking back into his body, Rhys opened his eyes with a deep breath, finding Duncan looking down on him, Rhys' hand in his.

Geralt was on his feet the second Rhys stirred, and Rhys was honestly surprised he even had sat down. They both looked grim and determined, and Rhys knew that look from Duncan at the very least. Whoever held Eskel captive would regret it, but not for long.

"Come here." Rhys patted the bed next to him and nestled into Duncan to make space. Reluctantly, Geralt sat down, all tension and fidgets and worry. Taking his hand, Rhys closed his eyes to try and remember what he had seen. 

Making sense of what he perceived with astral senses was a lot harder when it was not about emotional states but about locations and inanimate things. Those were just shadows and shapes. But he had spent time exploring, committing the place to memory. And then he had spent a little time wrapped around Eskel but it wasn't like Eskel could notice that. Definitely not without his medallion and Rhys had spotted that in what he thought was a tent. None of the knights had noticed its gentle vibrations as Rhys got close to it.

"I can show you to the place. I guess it used to be a quarry? Eskel is sick, I think it's mostly exhaustion and exposure. They're keeping him in a cage, and they keep him drugged with Fisstech. He has broken his leg but that's almost completely healed, it's barely visible." Rhys squeezed both Duncan's and Geralt's hands.

"I counted twenty people apart from Eskel. A couple of them were mildly high on Fisstech, but not many. Getting into that place will be a problem, I think it's heavily fortified. Not visible unless you stand right at the rim though." He leaned a little into Geralt. "I let Artrí show himself and Eskel recognized him. He knows we will come for him. I left Artrí with him, although neither Eskel nor his captors can see him."

***

Duncan tapped a finger on his leg. "I want a look at that place before we go in. I don't much feel like going in blind. If they're hunkered down there, we might be able to sneak up." 

He was already running through scenarios in his mind, dismissing and evaluating tactics. His biggest concern was that Eskel might get killed by his captors before they got to him, or even by accident during the fight. Artrí would need to protect him, keep anyone from getting close.

And Duncan did not cherish the thought of Rhys going into this fight. There was no question Rhys could hold his own, and maybe was the most dangerous of them all, but that didn't mean a well-aimed bolt couldn't take him down. Especially if he lost his composure and went berserk.

He was less worried than Geralt about killing these men in front of Rhys. Duncan knew from experience that Rhys would avoid killing as much as he could himself, but he also wasn't naive. He had worked the Shadows for a long time. But Duncan didn't like the thought that Rhys might be forced to kill and wanted to avoid putting him in that situation if at all possible.

"I'd say let's make camp at some distance, where we won't get caught by any sentries or scouts they might be sending out and do some recon?" The need to do something itched in Duncan's bones, and he could only guess how bad it must be for Geralt.

***

“Or camp where they will send some out. Then I can pick them off one at a time.” Geralt crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “Less mess for me to deal with later going down into the pit. If it’s a quarry like you describe, I might know the place already.”

There weren’t many places like that between Toissant and the north and Geralt had fought in a few of them—Stone Cutters’s Quarry and Devil’s Pit.

“I don’t know though, they might get suspicious, if people start disappearing. Maybe you’re right, we should look first.” Geralt didn’t like that idea. 

What he liked was the idea of going in swords swinging, but it would do no good to get to Eskel faster, if he was in worse shape when they got there. Suspicious people often turned their eyes to a witcher before anyone else. That meant Eskel already had a giant target on him.

“While you were out I took stock. I’ve got enough bombs in the alchemy lab for me and Duncan. Well, they’re Eskel’s bombs mostly, but that just means they’re even better. Some that are sort of like what you would think of as a flashbang, and some that are similar to a—what did you say? A frag grenade?” Geralt pointed to a crate he had toted up from the main house's hidden lab in the cellar.

“Of course Duncan's already got the sword I gave him before.” That had always been top of the line, one of the many from Geralt’s massive collection, that he’d chosen as a gift to Duncan. Geralt couldn’t dream of giving him anything less than a mastercrafted item. “He’s warned me you might forget to protect yourself, and I’ll watch out for you as much as him, but we _have_ to get to Eskel.”

“Was Scorpion anywhere around or do I need to bring an extra horse for Eskel? He is going to be _able_ to ride a horse, isn’t he?” The thought of it hit Geralt hard like a knife in the chest. How sick was Eskel, what did Rhys mean by sick, exactly?

***

"I don't know. I think one of us might have to take him. Scorpion's there, in a stable with other horses." Rhys got up to find a sheet of paper and some charcoal, busied himself with a sketch of the quarry while Geralt looked over his shoulder.

"If I had to guess, I'd say Eskel's been kept in that cage for some time, and he has been beaten and drugged. And he had given up hope that anyone was going to come get him, I could see that. That didn't help the state he's in." 

Turning to Geralt, Rhys cupped his face in one hand, leaving a smudge of charcoal on his cheek. "We will get him. And he will be fine, he has survived worse than that."

Duncan came to join them at the table, studying the sketch. "I still want a look at the real thing but this helps." He was silent for a bit and Rhys knew he was gearing up towards saying something Rhys wouldn't like. 

"I want you as magical support, if at all possible. Somewhere with a line of sight, but out of sight so no one takes potshots. You can cast from there." Duncan fell silent when Rhys turned to him, frowning.

"Forget it, I'm coming with you. You will need me down there, to get Eskel out of there as quickly as possible." It was the truth, but Rhys would also not be left behind. Watch while Geralt and Duncan fought and risked their lives. "We have a better chance if I come with you. I'll cast Movement on you - if these people are trained swordsmen, that will make up for it. You fight, I go get Eskel."

Rhys stated it as fact, head held high and staring at Duncan. He would not back down on this. Duncan stared right back, frowning and clearly unhappy, trying to come up with an argument to convince Rhys.

***

“I agree with Rhys here. I don’t like the idea of one of us up on the rim where they can be taken out easily while the others can’t even get to him for back up if needed. If Rhys’ is down in the pit with us, yes bolts fly, but I am trained to block them, and I can cast Quen on him—or you—if needed.” Completely uncrossing his arms finally, Geralt leaned on the table with both hands and studied the map. 

Instinctually, Geralt knew what Rhys said was true, Eskel had survived a whole Hells of a lot worse than a broken leg and a bunch of beatings. And he wasn’t a stranger to drugs on his own. It didn’t make Geralt any less sick to hear it and he wanted to punch a wall. Instead he inhaled and exhaled calmly, turning to lean his ass on the table again.

Geralt crossed his arms again. “Trained swordsmen or not, they are no match for a witcher whose leg isn’t broken. That injury had to have happened before they took him, or they got Gods Be Damned lucky in the fight. They won’t get lucky with us. Rhys, you said you could cast Movement on Duncan? What, exactly, does that do?”

***

Rhys grinned, fangs on display. "It makes him _fast_. As fast as you are, at least. It will make up for a lot, combined with Duncan's greater reach. We've done that a lot, although never with sword fighting."

Duncan knew that he had lost that particular discussion with Rhys, and he also knew Rhys was right. But not like Geralt thought, and planned to do it. That would end in a disaster. 

"You cannot go in there fighting and protecting Rhys, or me. That only makes it more dangerous for all of us. We need to be prepared to take care of our own protection and fighting. Relying on you casting Quen or deflecting crossbow bolts aimed at Rhys is asking for trouble. As soon as Rhys is further away from you, how do you plan on doing that? And he can't stay with you. Not if we want to do this quickly." Duncan became aware of the growl in his voice. He caught Rhys' glance and tiny shake of the head, telling him to calm down. Stopping himself, he breathed and relaxed his tense shoulders.

"You are used to fighting alone. Rhys and I have worked as a team, and with other people, before in situations like that. Trust us on this, please?" He aimed for a much gentler tone, well aware that if Rhys were in Eskel's position he'd be at least as impatient to go in fast and hard as Geralt was.

"How about you go in front and center and keep everyone occupied, and I go in from the back to go get Eskel, with Artrí as backup?" Rhys was looking at the crude map of the quarry again, obviously trying to come up with alternatives for them that did not involve them having a fight among themselves about this.

***

Duncan was growly, but Geralt could understand, he felt growly himself, ready to roar at the next person who spoke. All of them had the same goal though, even if they had different ways they wanted to reach it. All of them wanted Eskel back, safe, and no more hurt than he already was—without any further casualties on their end.

The idea of letting Rhys out of his sight, even with Artrí, grated on Geralt’s nerves. For more than one reason, the first being that Geralt really disliked the idea of someone so physically unguarded by armor being out and away from him. He did see the reason in what Duncan said. Protecting Rhys would distract Geralt and slow them both down, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. Rhys was fully capable of protecting himself—he hoped. 

Secondly, and much more selfishly, Geralt wanted to be the one to pull Eskel out of that cage and hear the breath of relief rush out of his lungs when he realized Geralt had come to save him. That desire was foolish in the face of it all though, and Geralt could see that. 

All of them loved Eskel and Eskel loved them all in return. Who pulled him out of the cage had no bearing on the fact that they were all going to risk their lives to save him. It wasn’t the kind of thing Eskel would overlook, or the kind of thing Geralt was going to split hairs on while Eskel’s life hung in the balance.

“I am. At most I ever fight with Eskel or Lambert as backup. It’s hard to wrap my head around working in a group and splitting up but I think Rhys’ plan sounds the best. It has the biggest chance of getting Eskel out without more injuries.” Geralt was antsy. If Duncan could be brought around to this idea as well he was ready to get moving. 

Especially if they were going to do a look-see first. Geralt already knew it was going to be exceedingly hard to walk away without going in if he saw Eskel miserable and hurt down in that pit. Geralt let out a huge breath. “Look, I know we all want the same thing. Can we just go with this, and get going? The longer we sit and chew it over, the longer Eskel sits in that cage.”

***

Duncan thought it over once more and nodded. "Yeah, let's go. This is all the planning we can do from here. I'll gladly take some of those bombs, and we should see if Rhys can wear one of your gambesons. Might not fit perfectly but good enough. And we'll go in there after dark—we all can see better than any of them anyway, and you even can take a potion."

Rhys reached out to give Geralt's hand a squeeze. "I'll tell you what magic I plan to use on the way. So you know it's me and not anything or anyone else."

Grabbing a roll of paper, the bombs and their armor, they went to get kitted out and saddle the horses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Info:  
> non-consenting drug use  
> captivity/torture


	2. On a Gathering Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For several seconds Geralt **could not** look away from the cage where Eskel hung, looking helpless and broken. _  
> A rescue operation

Under the cover of darkness and a spell Rhys had cast on them call, they had crawled up the to rim of the quarry, skirting one patrol easily. Now, they were hunkered down in the undergrowth, peering into the torch lit maze of platforms, walkways and huts that filled the pit.

It was fortified with wooden barricades at the other end where the path led down into it. On this side, the men keeping it seemed to have decided that steep walls were enough protection. The peppery smell of Fisstech hung in the air, coating Duncan's tongue and itching in his nose. 

He stared at the layout, memorizing it. It was a jumble, and he'd rather not get lost or run into a dead during the fight. Amidst the tents and huts at the bottom, it took him a moment to discover the cage and when he did, his stomach did a slow backflip.

Eskel seemed barely conscious, only held upright by the shackles around his wrists and a chain leading to a pulley system through the roof of the cage. Dressed only in braies and a tunic, deep bruises all over his body were on full display. They must have been beating him badly, and regularly, for him to look that way.

From Duncan's left came a deep growl as Geralt also discovered Eskel. Duncan leaned into him the slightest bit. "Don't worry, we will get him out and we will fuck them _up_ while we do it."

The men were well armored and armed. This would be no milk run. Duncan counted twenty men, plus the two on patrol they had seen. They were busy making Fisstech and loading their product into crates that went on a cart. Squinting, Duncan tried to decipher the symbol on their armor.

"Who are these people? Look a bit too well organized and equipped for a bunch of bandits." Rhys apparently had thought the same thing.

***

For several seconds Geralt _could not_ look away from the cage where Eskel hung, looking helpless and broken. Narrowing his eyes, Geralt scanned the knights wandering back and forth on watch with torches and swords. When one turned his way he caught the seal emblazoned on his armor.

A red rose on a burst of flames.

“The Order of Flaming Rose. Or what's left of them.” Geralt growled out under his breath. “Siegfried would be horrified. I thought I culled all of these bastards in the North when I found them there trying to make this stuff.”

The anger inside of Geralt was a living, breathing beast, and it was raging to get out and kill someone. Somewhere, up in a cave up north, he had failed and Eskel was paying the price whether he even knew it or not. Geralt hadn’t received any word that they had Eskel, so he didn’t really think this was about revenge but he couldn’t push aside the feeling that if he’d killed them all down to the bare roots then this wouldn't have happened. There simply wouldn’t have been an Order left to take Eskel.

“They are— were— a religious order dedicated to eradicating monsters, helping people, spreading the word of the Eternal Fire. That order is gone and dead now though, these are the Fallen Knights. What's left that didn’t join the witch hunters or guards.” Geralt rolled over on his back and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, letting out a very slow breath.

“I’ve seen enough. Do we have a way to get down that back side? I don’t take falls well, I have a leg that never healed quite right.” And now Eskel would too. “But we need to come at this from two sides. So they pay attention to Duncan and I while you go get Eskel.”

***

Rhys let go of a long breath, pulling himself out of his astral senses. Eskel actually seemed in better shape than when he had first seen him, at least mentally. He was still sick, in pain, and drugged, but at least there was a fierce flame of hope licking at the black despair in his aura, burning it away.

"I'll go down by rope, once you've kicked in the gate and have all their eyes on you. When I have Eskel, I'll let you know." Rhys touched Geralt's face, placing a quick kiss on his forehead. "Go. Don't worry about me." 

Duncan came to kiss Rhys, pressing his forehead to Rhys'. They didn't say anything, and didn't need to. Rhys watched them disappear into the night, both moving without a sound. He fastened a rope to a tree, secured himself and then waited, eyes on the gate. 

The seconds passed, stretching into minutes. Quiet voices rose from below, only scattered words clear enough to make sense. Rhys didn't look at Eskel, didn't want to be distracted. Artrí was with him, and kept watch.

When the gate was blown inwards by a blast of Aard, and a kick, Rhys was immediately on his feet. One last glance showed him Duncan and Geralt, and he cast his spell on Duncan, dropping the cloaking spell in its favor. With a silent word to Bear, Rhys turned his back on the fight and made his way down the sheer rock wall.

***

The first knight who has guarded the gate didn't know what hit him when Duncan struck, quick as a snake. Duncan's skin tingled as the spell settled over him, and he used his speed and momentum to barrel into the next man, crossing the distance between them in a powerful bounding stride. 

Thrown off his feet, the knight skidded across the wooden planks of the walkway. Duncan raised his sword to make sure he'd never get up again.

The dim flash of torchlight on steel was his only warning. Throwing himself backwards, a blade whispered through the air right in front of his chest. The knight wielding it pressed his advantage. Teeth bared in a grimace of rage, he swung at Duncan. Feinted, swung again. 

The pain was bright silver, a cut across Duncan's thigh. It hadn't come from the knight in front of him. With a roar, Duncan charged forward. The man only had time to block Duncan's swing, but couldn't hold Duncan's weight. He lost his footing, flailing wildly. A kick threw him on the walkway below.

Duncan jumped after him. He couldn't be trapped between his unseen attacker and the first knight getting to his feet again. A bolt of pain shot through him when he landed, his leg threatening to buckle. With a growl, Duncan swung his blade in an arc. It found its mark, the impact shuddering up Duncan's wrists. Blood spattered on Duncan's arms and face. A head thumped onto the planks.

From somewhere below, a bear roared. The sound sent a shiver up Duncan's spine. He hoped it did the same for the knights. Above him, Geralt was spinning around his opponents, his blade a barely visible blur.

There was no time to watch. Someone landed right next to Duncan, and he turned, his sword raised.

***

Geralt had torn right past the huddle of knights guarding the gate, trusting Duncan at his word that he could handle himself. There wasn’t any other way he could do this, training and instinct had taken over as soon as the chemicals of the fight had flooded his body. 

It was frighteningly like so many other contracts, with a mission to complete Geralt’a vision tunneled to that goal and everything else fell away. The worries about Duncan and Rhys were stored someplace far back in his mind and inaccessible. Except that Geralt was _angry_. Not just angry. He was livid.

Taking a left on the plank walk a pair of knights spotted him moving quickly, turning and spreading out to his sides. Trying to force him to leave one side open to attack. Geralt put his strength into the attack, aiming to take the first knight with a heavy attack and leave him too stunned to take a shot while Geralt dealt with the second.

His sword caught nothing but air as it hurtled around in a hard arc though. Both knights jumped back just in time to dodge it. Just as they had planned, the first knight hurried to stride forward and give a jab at Geralt with his poleaxe when his side was open. The tip of the metal caught the ringmail on his chest piece and Geralt grunted.

Raising his leg high Geralt planted a boot in the chest of his attacker, kicking him back and tearing the tip from his side. The second knight was already moving in on him. Giving a backward thrust of his sword, under his arm and behind him, Geralt buried it in the man's chest. 

The slick sucking sound of it pulling from the dead man sent the second knight scrambling backwards. “That. Is why you don’t fuck with a witcher.” Geralt gritted out the words as he advanced on the man, cowardly crawling backwards away from his fate.

With no time and no pity, Geralt stepped on the knight’s chest pointing his sword at his throat. It didn’t bother him at all to lean his weight into it.

A shout from below and a crossbow bolt thunking into the wood post too close to his head made Geralt yank his sword out and run to the end of the plank where another knight was coming up from a dirt path.

Taking a running charge Geralt leaned as far back as he could and swung upward aiming under the man’s jaw. The body crumpled to the plank, blood landed in fine warm spray across Geralt’s face. The head rolled into the small patch of grass that had managed to cling to the dirt between the plank and the rock.

Geralt could see the pathway continuing, one level going up to the right, another around a pulley to the left, but he knew this pit. Somewhere right up ahead there was a sharp turn that almost doubled back on itself and headed steeply down a dirt path to the bottom. It was easy to miss, but if you knew it was there it was the fastest way from top to bottom in this place.

The path that would let Rhys take Eskel out of here and Geralt wanted it completely clear of all opponents so that they would be able to exit swiftly. Below Geralt could hear a bear roaring viciously. It sounded savage and murderous. Like Geralt felt. Geralt spotted his turn and started down the steep trail.

***

Rhys hurried down the slope. Slipping and catching himself, dangling from the rope for a heartstopping second, he made his way to a platform with a crane. Pressing his back against it, he peeked around it to see Geralt and Duncan in the midst of combat, with more enemies hurrying towards them.

There were still a handful of knights left at the bottom of the quarry, and two of them were running towards Eskel. Rhys didn't know what they were up to, but he didn't intend to wait and find out.

With a thought, he unleashed Artrí. The sight of a bear rearing up right in front of them, materializing out of thin air, brought the men up short. 

Swords drawn, they defended themselves. They tried to circle Artrí, get the wall of a building at their back. With a roar, Artrí pounced. One of the knights fell, blood spurting from where his arm had been. His screams lasted only a few moments longer.

Rhys ran along the platform, skidding down the wooden stairs made slippery by damp and moss. A desperate jump, and he was on firm ground again, stumbling and catching himself by sheer momentum.

He used the confusion to run up to the pulley system unseen by anyone. A couple turns of the winch and Eskel collapsed in a heap, no longer forced upright by the chain. Rhys cut the rope with the short cutlass he was carrying, dropping it the second he was done and running to the cage. 

Squinting at the lock, he set to picking it. No sense in looking for the keys. Eskel was struggling to his knees, pulling the chain into the cage. 

"We're getting you out. Don't—" The air was knocked out of Rhys, a hard blow landing between his shoulder blades. Twisting around, Rhys spotted a knight taking aim with a crossbow up on a walkway.

***

2

A fireball bloomed somewhere at the edge of Duncan's vision. Rhys had entered the fight. There was no time to look for him, or for Geralt. Duncan had enough to do with staying alive.

He had managed to kill another two knights. More were coming, and he ran to meet them. With the speed Rhys' spell gave him, he was upon them in the blink of an eye. There were three of them. Then there were two. The third only a crumpled heap at the bottom of the quarry. 

Duncan whirled around, following the arc of his sword. Putting his weight behind it. It crunched to a halt, halfway stuck in the arm of a knight who had not managed to put on his complete armor. Jumping backwards, Duncan pulled at the blade, twisting it.

It pulled the knight along for a moment until the bone gave way. The man gave a scream, but still kept coming at Duncan. Blood ran down his arm as it swung limply from his side. His blow fell with the strength of desperation, forcing Duncan further backwards. Up against a wall, right where he didn't want to be. 

Grabbing a bucket with his offhand, Duncan hurled it at the knight. The moment the man deflected it, Duncan used the support of the wall to kick him right in the chest. It sent him stumbling into his comrade and Duncan cut them both down with two swift blows.

Blood ran into his eyes and Duncan blinked it away. He didn't know where it came from, and he didn't care. There was a ladder below, and some knights climbing up. Duncan ran to get to them.

***

Geralt picked up speed as he ran along the planks. There were knights running up to him already. In the dark they couldn’t see who they were up against, and the first one never even knew what hit him. He barely let out a noise, Geralt’s upward swing slicing him clear in half. Lower body slumping to its knees, the knight’s shoulders, one arm, and head slid right off in the other direction.

Side-stepping around the mess, Geralt threw out his left hand and unleashed a spray of fire in front of himself across the planks. Both of the remaining knights caught fire, flames streaking behind them. They ran at Geralt in a rage, aware their death was near and willing to sacrifice themselves.

“I live, I die, I live again!” One shouted, swinging his sword high.

Geralt heard a whistle and a small pain bloomed over the edge of his shoulder but he ignored it for the moment. It distracted him long enough he couldn’t get his sword up to block. Instead he twisted his fingers into a Quen too fast to see. Gold shimmered over his skin and the sword skittered off his arm in a shower of sunlit sparks, knocking the knight off balance.

Taking his opportunity, Geralt thrust his sword through the man's guts, kicking him in the chest to knock him off the sword when it got stuck in the knight’s armor. Stealing the momentum of yanking his sword back Geralt whirled and hacked into the next man. One, two, three quick strikes, slicing through chainmail and flesh. The man hunched over, coughing up blood.

Boots pounded on the planks above him and Geralt ran forward. That had to have been where the shot to his shoulder came from, and he wasn’t sure how many were up there. Rhys had fried at least one, clearly there was at least one more.

Geralt couldn’t see up over the edge of the upper walkway well enough to get a clear shot with his crossbow, so he lobbed a Superior Grapeshot from Eskel’s stash at home over the edge and kept running. A few moments later there was a loud explosion and a flurry staggering boot thuds on the planks. Screams filled the air and everything was a bit brighter around him as the walkway above him started on fire.

The walkway ended and Geralt’s feet hit dirt. Instinctively he remembered this was where he needed to turn hard down the steep side of the pit. There was a skinny trail here that would take him right to Eskel’s cage and Rhys. Hunkered behind a tall blood red shield right where he needed to go was a knight. Only his helm was visible above the rounded top of the shield and he didn't look prepared to let it go.

***

Rhys had seen the crossbow sniper go to one knee as his fireball hit him, and then stared in disbelief as he got up again. Before Rhys has called up another spell, shrapnel from an explosion tore into the man and he dropped. 

This time, he did not get up.

Not wasting time watching him burn, Rhys turned to the lock on the cage again, fiddling with it. He wanted to simply punch it, but it was much too sturdy, and so was the rest of the cage. Shutting out the noise of the battle, Rhys focused on his work until there was a quiet click.

He tore open the cage and gathered Eskel up, along with the chain still attached to his shackles. Eskel struggled to stand but his legs wouldn't carry him, not even while holding on to Rhys. 

"We're going to get Scorpion. Hold on to me. Duncan and Geralt are taking care of the knights." Rhys hitched Eskel up on his back and ran. It was only a short distance to the stables and he called to Artirí. The bear has just crushed a knight's chest with one swipe of his massive paw. It turned away from the body and bounded towards them.

Right before they were at the stable, a man dropped from the walkway above. Rhys almost ran into him, impaling himself on the sword aimed at him. At the last moment, he spun and the blade sliced through the air right in front of his chest.

With an snarl, Rhys cast a bolt of energy at the knight, making it as powerful as he dared. The man collapsed, limbs jittering and jerking, blood running from his nose and eyes. A sweet burnt smell hung in the air, making Rhys gag. 

Jumping over the man, Rhys wrenched open the stable door and ran towards where he remember finding Scorpion. The stallion was prancing on his rope, the whites in his eyes visible in the gloom. But he let Rhys put Eskel on his back and then get on behind him. At the slightest touch of Rhys' heels to his flanks, Scorpion trotted out of the stables and accelerated the second they were outside. With Artrí running in front of them, Rhys pointed him towards the path to the gate and held on for dear life, cowering over Eskel.

***

Duncan ran just close enough and the lobbed a bomb at the knights. It bounced for one heartstopping moment on a knight's breastplate and one rung of the ladder. Then bright fire bloomed with a loud bang.

It took the first knight and most of the ladder with it. Jumping down, Duncan ran his blade through the second knight's neck as he lay dazed on the ground.

He looked up just in time to see Rhys cast a spell. The flash of light almost blinded Duncan, he looked away just in time. 

_Fuck._

Duncan knew exactly what that spell had been, and he knew the knight would not get up. But that was a thing to worry about later. Right now he had enough to do with making sure his own opponent wouldn't get up again either.

There was one of them left. He had managed to escape the bomb, slightly singed. Duncan and the knight circled each other warily. The clatter of hooves, and the roar of an angry bear dragged at Duncan's attention, but he kept it on the knight. 

Feinting twice, Duncan finally charged with a shout, closing the distance between them in one large bound and swinging his sword.

***

The shielded knight only watched as Geralt built up his momentum for a heavy attack, clearly well protected. The hit of a witcher was not the hit of a knight though and it rattled him, causing the man to stumble backwards a step. Still he held firm when Geralt built up to the next swing. It landed with a thud on the shield, and vibrated up Geralt’s arm, considerably more solid than the last one had. 

The knight must have braced for that one. Geralt circled his shoulder and aimed another heavy swing at the same spot in the shield. Likely his opponent had felt that last one as much as him. The strike was swift and accurate, jostling the knight enough that he dropped the shield to the ground and swung at Geralt with his sword.

Geralt parried the attack, pressing forward in a series of lightning quick strikes. Sparks flew off of his Quen, arrows bouncing off it one after another but Geralt ignored it for the moment focusing on the man in front of him, eventually exhausting and cutting him down. As soon as he was sure the man was not getting back up, Geralt looked up in the direction of the arrows.

Quen exploding around him as it wore off in glittering shards, Geralt spotted an archer up above on the platform along the side wall. Taking aim with his crossbow quickly he let off one bolt that flew true. The archer grabbed at his neck where the bolt was lodged, then toppled face first off the platform. Geralt didn’t bother to pay attention to where he landed.

The heavy huffing of a running bear and the thuds of its huge paws on the ground had all his attention. Artrí was coming up the path. If Geralt had any kind of luck the hoofbeats following him were Scorpion, and Rhys had Eskel. Throwing the shield out of the way, Geralt pressed himself flat against the rocks as they rode by.

Even at barely a glimpse, Eskel looked awful. And Rhys had blood running from his nose. Worry knotted in Geralt’s stomach and he was glad he had cleared the way for them. He’d seen Yen, Triss, and other sorceresses like that before and it was never a good sign. Rhys had overexerted himself with his magic.

The effects of the Cat were wearing off and Geralt weighed the cons of taking another. A look down into the pit revealed that only one foe remained, locked in combat with Duncan. Lifting his crossbow, Geralt became acutely aware of the pain in his side where the tip of the halbert had stabbed him. The bolt was aimed at the man’s back, but the pain in his side overrode his aim. 

Instead it caught the knight in the upper hamstring, bringing him to one knee before Duncan. _Fuck_. Geralt put his crossbow away and instead focused on getting out a Swallow. In this shape he wasn’t going to do anyone any good. Choking it down he took a rough breath. 

Duncan was standing over a man with no head. Good for him. Geralt ran down to tell him Rhys was out with Eskel. The only men left were the two patrolmen they’d skirted on the way in.

***

Every bump and jostle _hurt_. But Eskel knew the smells around him. Under him and over him. The torchlights he glimpsed trailed on farther than they should in his vision. Horse, and not just any horse but _Scorpion_ was dusty, musty, and grassy below him. And cardamom, smoke, and incense covered him— along with a warm body he knew. It hurt to have the weight on top of him, but he would take this pain over the pain of being pulled up tight. This pain was safe.

The smell of wet fur, dirt, and blood floated among the other scents. The sting of fisstech was still present, but blurred out in Eskel’s mind by everything else. For the first time in a long while he wanted to breathe in through his nose. Eskel held onto something for dear life, not sure what, it wasn’t reigns, maybe some part of the saddle. They turned a corner and his stomach lurched. The bright orange, red, blooming yellow of a fire burst into his vision, making him squeeze his eyes shut against the harsh light.

It hurt to breathe, his ribs ached in a broken way. Eskel tried to hold on with his legs but those didn’t seem to cooperate either. He knew one was messed up but surely it was better by now? And what about the other? He hadn’t been able to stand even with help. Eskel hadn’t been this weak since the Trials. 

They had come though. Even though he had been sure they wouldn’t. That they couldn’t. Because he was nowhere near the Path he traveled as best he could tell. As the Fallen Knights had told him.

 _No one comes to find a lowly witcher. Even if you think they care about you, they can’t find you here._ Eskel snorted an ugly laugh that lasted only one painful breath at the memory, a twisted grin on his face. _Fuck you all._

All of them cared about him. Enough to find a way. To make it happen. And Eskel had known as soon as he’d seen Artrí prowling the ridge, roaring and posturing. And they were here. It was real, not some fisstech driven hallucination. The ones Eskel loved loved him back in a way that was never meant to happen for a witcher. It would all be alright, even if it all hurt right now.

***

Rhys kept a firm grip on Eskel as Scorpion took a running jump over two unmoving bodies in their path. One more corner to turn, and they were out of the gate. Scorpion’s muscles bunched under Rhys, and the stallion accelerated even more down the path towards the woods.

When Rhys pulled on the rope he had quickly fixed to the halter in the way of reins, Scorpion slowed down willingly. He turned his head to snuffle at Eskel and then walked among the trees until they had reached the camp. The other horses greeted them with a quiet nickering.

Trusting Scorpion to stay with them, Rhys slid off and pulled Eskel into his arms, carrying him over to where he had already spread a bedroll. One look at Eskel’s aura told Rhys he was still under the influence of fisstech, but Eskel held on to him and gave his hand a squeeze.

“You’re safe now. Duncan and Geralt will be here soon.” Running a hand through Eskel’s hair, Rhys bent down to place a kiss on his jaw, nosed at his beard. The first thing they should do when they got back to Corvo was give him a bath. Rhys couldn’t have cared less about the smell, but he was sure Eskel would feel better when he had washed all of it off his skin and had a change of clothes and a shave. 

Covering Eskel with a blanket, Rhys knelt next to him and called up a healing spell, focused on Eskel’s bruised and broken ribs. The leg was mostly healed and didn’t need any treatment. And the bruises would take care of themselves. 

The last thing Rhys heard was Artrí popping out of existence before the darkness swallowed him up.

***

Duncan took a moment to breathe, standing at the bottom of the quarry. There were bodies strewn about, marking his and Geralt’s path. Except for the flickering flames of a few burning walkways, and the scudding clouds above, nothing moved.

He turned in a circle, looking for the tent Rhys had mentioned where Eskel’s medallion was. He spotted three tents in a huddle and walked towards them. His leg protested at every move, and when he touched his pants, his hand came away wet with blood. But it carried him reliably enough that Duncan was willing to ignore it a while longer. 

Eskel’s medallion, and his other things, were in a crate in one of the tents. Duncan carefully picked up the medallion at its chain and passed it to Geralt who had come up behind him. Geralt’s armor was bloodied, but Duncan couldn’t tell if any of it was his. He looked and moved well enough that Duncan shoved away the worry.

“Let’s take some of the horses and get out of here. We can take care of the bodies later, once Eskel is at Corvo.” Duncan wiped at a trickle of blood running down the side of his face, smearing it. 

They were halfway to camp when the spell still resting on Duncan shattered, immediately dissolving into nothingness. Duncan sucked down a breath. This shouldn’t have happened. 

“Something’s wrong with Rhys. The spell is gone.” Remembering the patrol they hadn’t bothered to take out, cold dread pooled in Duncan’s stomach.

***

Pausing to silence out everything else for a moment Geralt listened hard to his surroundings. There was Duncan’s heartbeat, racing next him, and stillness all around. “I’m not hearing the patrol at all. They must have decided they wanted to live and ran.”

“But he’s exhausted himself. I saw him on his way out with Eskel. Blood running down his nose. If he cast anything else-” Geralt didn’t finish the sentence because he realized he didn’t really know. Was it like Yen? On the Continent, if a sorceress used up all their energy and no one intervened, they would die.

Geralt kicked the horse under him aggressively.

The horse barreled through the trees, leaving Geralt to duck and dodge branches as they flew past his face. The hooves of the horse carrying Duncan thundered right behind him. Near the camp Geralt pulled the horse up short, flinging himself off its back and running into their camp.

***

Eskel had no idea where he was. Warm arms pulled him from Scorpion, and they were strong and carried him with ease. Set down on a bedroll, Eskel found it immeasurably soft compared to standing or at best sitting in a crumpled heap at the bottom of his cage. No. _A_ cage— it wasn’t his anymore.

A blanket covered him and Eskel sighed. Rhys’ voice was clear in his mind through the haze, comforting and gentle as the touch of cool water. Like dipping his toes in the lake on a hot summer day, all the drowners already dead. The water slipping over him and washing away all his hurts,

Rhys fell over in front of him and Eskel reached out, surprised at how much less it hurt to move his arms and take a breath. Pulling Rhys in towards himself Eskel curled protectively around him. A copper tang stung the air and Eskel tried to pull himself from the fog enough to find the source of the bleeding but he couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Info:  
> graphic violence and murder


	3. Shadows Will Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sometime during the night— or day— Geralt wasn’t exactly sure, Eskel had curled over on his side and burrowed further into Rhys. The sight spilled tranquility into Geralt’s veins. Rhys was blinking sleepily over Eskel’s large frame._  
>  Everyone together again, but it'll still be a long way until it's remotely the same.

Rhys floated in the cozy darkness for a bit before he was awake enough to open his eyes. He wasn't in much of a hurry, he could smell and sense the others just as well without opening his eyes.

The wash of waves on a shore, pine resin on his tongue and the warm smell of honey. And no one was in distress, at least not immediately. Duncan and Geralt had worry coiled in their chests, haunting their dreams. Eskel was sleeping without dreams, grey exhaustion veiling the normal reddish gold. It burned away as Rhys watched, slowly but steadily.

When Rhys finally did open his eyes, he was back in the bedroom of the main house. Geralt and Duncan were huddled together on a bench they must have carried up from downstairs, Geralt leaning against Duncan, and both of them asleep. Between them and Rhys was Eskel, breathing slowly.

Rhys nestled into him, one arm over his chest. They must have bathed or at least washed him, Eskel smelled like himself again. Clean skin, juniper and bourbon. It was the first time Rhys had ever seen him with a beard and he softly touched it, running his fingers through it. Eskel moved in Rhys' arms, but only to roll over and cling to him without really waking up. 

Settling down again, Rhys dozed a little more. For now, everything was well and he did not feel like thinking about last night.

***

Duncan woke with a groan. His back was killing him, and so was his leg. Time for another painkiller, probably. But getting up would have meant disturbing Geralt who had taken over two thirds of the bench and had slipped down into Duncan's lap.

So he just rolled his head to work the stiffness out of his neck. On the bed, Eskel was still sleeping, with Rhys holding him. Rhys blinked slowly, finally opening his eyes when he saw Duncan awake.

"Hey." Duncan kept his voice low. "How do you feel? You scared us."

"Mmh, I'm fine. I didn't mean to scare you. But I was so focused on helping Eskel - I didn't even think to just give him a potion. How are you?" Rhys did look mostly fine, except for the dark rings under his eyes. But Duncan knew from experience that these would disappear once he got more rest. 

"I'm good. I do know how to use a medkit. Good thing you brought that." Duncan smiled, gently petting Geralt's hair as he spoke.

***

Geralt stirred a bit in Duncan’s lap. The hand in his hair was strong, warm, and comforting. Geralt was very reticent to give it up for a moment until he heard Rhys’ voice. Struggling to sit up, the full effect of having run on potions and chemicals hit him.

His mouth tasted like shit.

There was a slight ringing in his ears that reminded Geralt that he had not bothered to clear his system with White Honey before passing out. It was fine, he’d done worse. Geralt knew his body could handle it—would handle it. The important thing was that Eskel was here, carefully tucked in between them and Rhys. 

Sometime during the night—or day—Geralt wasn’t exactly sure, Eskel had curled over on his side and burrowed further into Rhys. The sight spilled tranquility into Geralt’s veins. Rhys was blinking sleepily over Eskel’s large frame.

Sitting up straight Geralt stretched over, and nested his face in his own crooked elbow to hide his breath, reaching a hand over Eskel’s legs to stroke Rhys’ through the blanket. “Hey you.” 

The words came out a shade more tight than Geralt had intended. Moving across the bed had stretched something in his side, and it pulled in an unhealthy way that told him the Swallow he’d downed in the middle of the fight was not enough. That was fine, he had more where that one had come from.

Letting out a breath to loosen the pain and his tongue Geralt tried for a half-hearted smile. “I’m glad you’re awake, but you should go back to sleep.” A firm squeeze to Rhys’ calf and Geralt started to work at pushing himself up off the bed. It wasn’t much of an act. He did actually need to use his arms to get back upright at the moment.

“Wait. You’re hurt. Let me heal you.” Rhys was already trying to disentangle himself very gently from Eskel to rise up.

“No.” 

Rhys sagged back down at the rebuff. 

“But…” There was no real argument, only a low-spirited note to Rhys’ word. It made Geralt wince. He never turned down Rhys' well intended magic.

Geralt wanted to lean over the bed and touch Rhys again but he wasn’t sure he’d be able pull himself back up to standing silently again if he did. “Hey,” softening his voice and his face, Geralt looked right at Rhys and put all his honesty on display, “you've done enough right now. I have potions. When you are better I'll be eager to have you heal anything that’s left over. And you will make me perfect again.” This time when Geralt tried to smile it came out just as he wanted it, standing was considerably less painful. “In the meantime, sleep for me, alright?”

Rhys wrapped his arm around Eskel again and nodded. He didn’t look happy about it, but Geralt was willing to bet Rhys knew that he was right. Duncan stretched his leg with a quiet groan and Geralt nodded at him. 

“I’m going to go downstairs, take care of nature, find the potions I need, then I’ll be back.”

Stairs were easy enough, and Geralt managed to get into his own room without any major incidents. Taking off his gambeson was painful and revealed a bloody tunic underneath. Geralt slipped out of that as well and looked at the seeping wound on the side of his gut. The first Swallow had done its job, closing the inner part of the wound as much as it could but this was no minor injury and he needed something more.

Geralt opened a drawer and downed a Swallow—something to last—and a White Raffard’s Decoction to deal with the worst of it now. The ringing in his ears intensified and then settled down, stilling into silence. Pain seared into his gut as the White Raffard’s closed the inner bits too fast and Geralt gripped the dresser, growling through it.

When the worst was over, Geralt pressed a folded linen to the wound and wrapped his midsection in a bandage. Slipping into a clean tunic he took a White Honey with him for when the potions were done doing their job and he could finally clear his body of all the toxins building up in it. 

Walking through the dining room Geralt heard shuffling footsteps on the stairs and a soft knock. The most unobtrusive thing ever. The soft scrape of wood on wood and more shuffling steps before Marlene came round the corner of the stairs. “I left food for you all on outside the door. I hope Master Eskel is well.”

There was such genuine concern in her crinkly eyes that Geralt paused to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Marlene.” Geralt prized his household, the way none of them shied away from him even now, as awful as he must look and smell.

***

Duncan had just gotten up and picked up the tray in front of the door when Geralt padded up the stairs again. Holding the door open for him, Duncan looked him over. 

"Well, you look like shit. Potions side effect?" He followed Geralt into the room, put the tray down on the small table and picked up a piece of cheese. 

"It'll be gone in a bit, don't worry about it. It's normal." Geralt joined him and piled some bread and cold meat into a bowl. The potions had turned him even more pale and made every vein under his skin a blackish color in contrast. It looked alarming, but since Geralt wasn't concerned and actually did move easier already than on the way out, Duncan chose not to be concerned either.

He stepped behind Geralt and kissed the back of his neck. "I'm going to go get a painkiller for my leg. And a bedroll so we can get some more sleep, too."

Neither Eskel nor Rhys stirred while Duncan and Geralt had a quiet breakfast. After, they spread the bedroll on the floor at the foot of the bed and lay down, Geralt in Duncan's arms. They both fell asleep almost immediately.

***

Rhys woke to the golden light of the afternoon streaming into the window, and to the growling of his stomach. Removing himself from Eskel's embrace, Rhys slipped out from under the covers and stood. He had to hold on to the wall for a second until a spell of dizziness had passed.

The tray of food looked extremely inviting, and Rhys stepped quietly past Duncan and Geralt who were still sleeping. With a bowl of fruit and cheese in hand, Rhys turned to the bed again to find Eskel sitting up. 

"Hey." Rhys grabbed another bowl, added some bread and meat, took a bottle of small beer and brought it all over to the bed. Crawling under the covers, he leaned into Eskel, ran his hand down Eskel's back. 

"The others are still sleeping. You've slept the best part of the day and you needed it." Rhys sat up against the headboard and motioned for Eskel to come join him. "Do you want some food? Or more sleep?"

***

Looking around the room, Eskel took in his surroundings, momentarily disoriented. He was safe, that much he knew and Rhys was right here, but this wasn’t his room. Then it clicked. They were upstairs at Corvo in the guest room. _The others are still sleeping_ , that meant that at least everyone was alright.

Cautiously, Eskel scooted himself up to the head of the bed. A few deep breaths proved far easier than they should have and Eskel wanted to cry. “I- where’s my stuff? ‘S it gone?” 

Eskel didn’t think that after making it through all this he could bear to have lost his most precious things. On the Path he kept his life in his saddlebags. The drawings of him and Geralt Rhys had gifted him long ago, still neatly kept in a leather binder and pulled out on lonely nights to make him smile over a fire. Drawings of himself. Looking human and whole. Those things were truly irreplaceable.

Collapsing into Rhys’ side Eskel closed his eyes to force back the tears. His medallion swung unmistakable and solid between them. One thing at least that he hadn’t lost then. Exhaustion still pulled at Eskel, and his stomach ached in a dull way that told him he _should_ eat if he wanted to heal well. But even Marlene’s spread didn’t smell as appetizing as it should in the face of his grief.

“I don’ know what I need.” Trying to let out an even breath Eskel failed and tears spilled down his face. “You all came for me. You didn’t leave me.” The thought was overwhelming now that his was no longer in immediate danger and Eskel wasn’t sure how to put sense to it all. It was too much to know for sure, in a very tangible way, that Duncan and Rhys cared just as much as Geralt.

***

"Duncan!" Rhys called out to his husband before pulling Eskel in a tight embrace. He held him close, let him hide in his arms. 

Both Geralt and Duncan appeared at the foot of the bed, sleep drunk and blinking. The sight of Eskel got them both scrambling up on the bed. 

"Where are Eskel's things, did you find them?" Rhys didn't know, but Duncan pointed to a corner of the room.

"We brought them. Everything's there, we think. The drawings are. No one touched those." 

With Geralt getting pulled into the hug by Eskel, Duncan stayed kneeling on the bed. It wasn't broad enough for them all. But he did reach out to touch Eskel and run his hand over his back, rubbing circles there. 

Rhys smiled at him over Eskel's head and pulled up a leg so Duncan could come a bit closer. 

"Of course we didn't leave you." Rhys nosed into Eskel's hair, petting his back together with Duncan.

"We love you, we'd never give up on you and leave you." Duncan sounded gruff, and Rhys caught his gaze, saw him blink away tears.

***

Eskel had blindly grabbed at him and Geralt had allowed himself to be pulled over, wrapping his arms low around Eskel’s waist. “Hey you, no one was going to leave you there. Ever.”

There was a noncommittal noise from somewhere between Rhys and Eskel. Running his fingers through Eskel’s shaggy dark brown hair, Geralt slowly combed it away from Eskel’s ear and leaned in to kiss right in front of it. Lips lingering on the soft scruff of Eskel’s beard, Geralt breathed in his scent deep without forcing Eskel to come out of hiding.

“We couldn't have. It was never an option. It was-” Geralt choked up, “-I love you too much. Don’t ever think we don’t.” Long moments passed with Geralt holding on, almost afraid Eskel would slip through his arms and be gone again.

Between Geralt and Rhys, Eskel sniffled, chest rising and falling erratically. “You smell. Like too many potions.”

A tiny laugh worked its way out of Geralt. “I do. I need to take White Honey.” Raking Eskel’s hair with his fingers once more, Geralt pressed his cheek to the soft mahogany waves. “Want Duncan to crawl in here so I can do that?”

That got an emphatic nod from Eskel, so Geralt gave his cheek one last kiss before sliding off the bed. Motioning for Duncan to take his place, Geralt returned to the foot of the bed to find the potion he’d left there. His side ached considerably less now. It was far from perfect but at least moving was only uncomfortable to moderately painful instead of bordering on impossible.

The White Honey went down sickly sweet and with a flowery aftertaste that Geralt had never been fond of. But the pulsing at the edge of his vision receded immediately. Snagging a piece of bread from the tray, Geralt followed it with a swig from one of the open bottles hoping to chase away the awful taste in his mouth.

***

Geralt’s feverish heat was replaced behind Eskel with the wall of comfort that was Duncan. Reaching behind himself blindly once more Eskel found Duncan’s hand, or maybe it found him. He really wasn’t sure. Either way Eskel brought Duncan’s arm around him and softened back into the mountain of muscles.

The scent of stress wavered around Duncan still, and Eskel wiped his tears on Rhys’ tunic. Rolling over he looked at Duncan. Put his arm around Duncan’s neck and pulled him down. A bit of embarrassment crept up on Eskel. He’d been caught unaware and it had put them all at risk.

“‘M sorry. I ran into an arachas— armored one— an’ got caught. It trampled my leg. Was stupid. Then when I was settin’ the bone,” Eskel looked down at his hand, dark bruises still marked his wrist, “these knights showed up. Even a witcher can’t fight outnumbered with a broken leg. I didn’t mean to…” trailing off, Eskel fell quiet.

Laying his head quietly against Duncan’s chest, Eskel let the softness of Rhys’ hand on his back soothe him. The solidness of Duncan’s chest support him. Until Geralt moved into his vision with a leather binder, two rescued bowls of food, and a bottle of small beer.

“That’s it. I’m telling B.B. we needed a bigger bed.” Geralt gave a weak smile and motioned over with the beer bottle until Eskel relented his hold on Duncan and retreated back into Rhys’ lap. “Here.” First came the pictures, then the bottle of beer.

“-anks.” Sitting cross legged in Rhys’ lap, Eskel set the bottle between his legs and unfolded the binder with his pictures, tracing his fingers over the lines of the well memorized drawings. Simply seeing them unblemished released a chain that had been bound around his heart.

“Here, open.” Geralt’s voice interrupted Eskel’s mind.

“Hrmgh?” Squinting from under his hair which had gone a tad too long, Eskel turned his head to Geralt, only to find a blueberry right in front of his mouth. 

Rhys’ fingers combed through his hair, pinning it behind his head for a moment, then letting it fall again once he’d obediently taken a bite. The hand rubbing his back was too large to be either Geralt or Rhys, and Eskel found himself letting them take care of him. One bite, one drink, and hundred touches at a time.

Duncan found Eskel in the little hothouse filled with small orange trees that had been the latest addition to Corvo Bianco. Rhys had planned it with BB for years, and finally they had managed to get their hands on orange seeds and saplings from the Continent. The trees were little more than knee high but some would bear fruit this year.

Just like Rhys, Eskel had been done resting in bed by noon. Geralt had shaved him and cut his hair and it was obvious Eskel was more comfortable like this. 

"Hey." Duncan sat on the bench off to one side and watched Eskel water the pots. The scent of wet soil and citrus filled the air, and outside cicadas sang in the grass. Neither of them felt much need to break the comfortable silence until Eskel came to sit next to Duncan.

"Tell me if this is none of my business. But I think you feel guilty about getting captured. And you really shouldn't. I know it's hard to shake that feeling, but this isn't your fault. You didn't fuck up." Duncan leaned into Eskel a little as he spoke.

***

The orangery was a tiny piece of comfort in Corvo for Eskel. Of course all of Corvo Bianco was his as well as Geralt’s in premise, even if the deed was only in Geralt’s name. But the orangery was _Eskel’s_ alone, sort of like Geralt had his wine cellar.

“Didn’t I, though?” Eskel laid his head down on Duncan’s shoulder. 

Pressure ached behind his eyes. “Not in the way everyone thinks. I couldn’ have done anythin’ to prevent it. Shitty row of luck is all. But I don’ know-” The scent of the warm earth and oranges tingled Eskel’s nose, reminding him of all the reasons getting caught had been the worst possible thing.

“-this ‘s why witchers aren’t meant to love or be loved? I fucked that up good.” There was a finality to that statement. Eskel knew for sure that he was loved. And he’d known for a long time that he loved.

Duncan was silent next to him. Eskel couldn’t have been more thankful. Duncan would just let him say what he needed to and couldn’t to anyone else. “‘Cause things like that might happen. An’ we were meant to be left.” 

“I do feel guilty. A bit. That everyone risked themselves to come get me. That I needed to be able to hope for that. That me bein’ me an’ doin’ my job puts you all at risk in that way? An’ that I can’t not want for you all to care so much?” The ache behind his eyes was worsening and Eskel sat back up, elbows on his knees and hands braced on the sides of his face.

“I feel guilty you all risked so much to come for me. But I’d’ve been crushed if you didn’t. Does that make any sense?” Eskel looked over at Duncan hoping for some sort of understanding there.

***

"It makes sense, yeah." Duncan gave a short nod. He ran his hand down Eskel's spine and up again, fingers lightly tracing the dips and rises of it.

"I don't know if Rhys ever told you that, but back when we hadn't been together long, I got kidnapped. And Rhys, my brother, and a bunch of other people I had given up on came for me. I didn't think anyone would. And that was by far the worst thing about it." Smoothing down his mohawk, Duncan thought about his next words.

"None of us would want to not care, or care less. You mean so much to us. And that's nothing to feel guilty about. Even if it gets us into trouble. We all would do that for one another." He gave Eskel a smile, very gently headbutted him. "But yes. I understand why you _do_ feel guilty. I felt the same. And it was— it is a little frightening to have people care that much."

***

Relief rolled over Eskel. Dropping his hands from his face, Eskel turned them palms up and looked at Duncan, eyes shiny. "Melitele, yes! 'S terrifying." 

Groaning, Eskel whispered under his breath. "Fuck."

“‘S the worst. Thinkin’ if somethin’ happened to one of you ‘cause of me. An’ I don’ wanna stop bein’ me. This is what I _do_. Might be a while ‘fore I have the itch to do it again, but I _will_.” Eskel didn’t even want to think about having that discussion with Geralt for a good long while.

“I’d given up. You know?” Eskel looked back at his hands. “Not ‘cause I didn’ want to believe, I did. Want to. But, I was nowhere near where I’d been seen last. I knew that, an’ they were sure to remind me.”

“When I saw Artrí I knew they were dead. Every one of ‘em. An’ I held onto that like a little flame inside to keep me warm. ‘Til I woke up home an’ the weight of it all sank in an’ that was almost more frightenin’ than bein’ kept. At least there it was only me who’d’ve died.” Eskel sat up straight, rolling his shoulders and neck, then leaned back against the low wooden wall where it met the glass of the hothouse. 

“‘M glad you get it. Me. Honestly. I don’ think I could’ve admitted it to the others. Not so easily. An’ I feel a lot better knowin’ ‘m not alone in feelin’ this way.” There was still a pressure behind Eskel’s eyes but it was easing instead of building. 

“I don’ know ‘bout you, but gettin’ the shit beat outta me an’ healin’ it always makes me starvin’. We should see what Marlene’s got hidin’ in the kitchen.” Standing up just a bit slower than normal Eskel offered Duncan a hand and when Duncan took it Eskel jerked him into a hug. “I mean it. Thank you. I needed to get that out.”

Eskel opened the orangery door and led the way through the garden past the greenhouse where they grew rare herbs back to the main house. He did feel better already. Maybe he hadn’t quite shaken the guilt yet, but at least he knew it was misplaced and based on faulty reasoning. Simply knowing he wasn’t the only one who misplaced his emotions made him feel a hundred times less alone with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Info:  
> trauma discussion  
> drug use (it's potions, but still)


	4. And the Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You left some of them alive?” One of Eskel’s hands gripped the table, knuckles white, and the other balled into a fist._  
>  Not for much longer.

Rhys pushed Geralt back on to the bed, gently but firmly. "Eskel will be fine. He's right, walking a bit and fresh air will do him good. And I want to check on your injuries. Please?"

Geralt was sitting on the bed with Rhys right in front of him. If he didn't want to push Rhys away or roll across the bed, he was going nowhere. With a resigned sigh, Geralt at least tried to relax and let Rhys take off first his tunic, then the bandage.

"You're right. I'm just— worried." Geralt flinched when Rhys carefully probed the wound.

"I know. I know how it feels. You don't want to let him out of your sight. Ever. Because what if you do, and then he's suddenly gone again. But you can't hover over him all the time. It only stresses you out, and it doesn't do Eskel any favors either." Rhys knelt in front of Geralt, arms resting on Geralt's thighs and looked up at him.

"If you want to, I can heal this and what else is left. I'm not going anywhere and I can afford to spend the energy on this." Duncan and Geralt _would_ be going somewhere, Rhys was sure of that. He hadn't forgotten about the patrol, and he didn't think they had either.

***

Geralt smiled softly at Rhys and reached out to cup his face. “I told you I would let you make me perfect again when you were better. I meant it.” Resting back against the headboard Geralt looked down at the wound still partially unhealed and seeping. It had been deep.

“I don’t need any more scars. Canvas is full.” It had been _years_ since he’d had an injury this severe and Geralt didn’t have any desire to keep a reminder of almost losing Eskel around permanently.

“-But you’re right. I don’t want him leaving again and I know Eskel, he will try. Maybe not right now, but eventually. I don’t know how I will deal with that.” Geralt sighed in frustration and then it bled into a softer note of relief as Rhys’ cool magic flowed into him.

***

Rhys had followed Geralt up on the bed. With the spell cast and the wound closing as he watched, flesh and skin knitting itself back together, Rhys turned to pick up a bowl of water from the bedside table. He held it out to Geralt who heated the water with Igni, and he went on to clean what blood there was left on Geralt's body.

"I think you are right, Eskel won't be content with staying here and retiring. He will want to go back on the Path." Rhys dropped the cloth back into the bowl and put it aside. 

"You need to let him, but you know that already." With a soft smile, Rhys took Geralt's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I don't like it any more than you do, but still. With Duncan, I was lucky. When he got taken, we were able to retire from shadowwork right after I got him back, so it didn't come up as much. But I used to worry every time he went to get groceries. But I got better."

***

That caught Geralt entirely by surprise. “Duncan? I didn’t realize Duncan got taken.” Geralt grumbled for a moment and then set the knowledge aside for later. It was clearly old news.

“I don’t know how- I mean obviously I can’t stop him. Did you just pull your hair out every time he left the house until he’d come back so many times it stuck?” Groceries were not the same thing as the Path. It was inherently dangerous— just like this.

“I could go with him.” Geralt perked up, and then dropped his shoulders. “But I shouldn’t. I _like_ being retired. He doesn’t. That’s the problem.”

Geralt sighed heavily, frustrated all over again. “I’m done risking my skin for people who’d sooner spit on me than pay me. He still, I don’t know, gets some kind of satisfaction from a job well done?”

“I don’t want to fight with him about this and I really don’t want to fight about it right now, but I don’t want him going back out there. When I have no way of knowing where he’s at or if he’s alright for a month at a time.” A growl entered Geralt’s voice. “I thought it was better than three or six or more but it's still too long.”

***

"Yes, Duncan got taken. He just didn't come home to me one day and it took me a long time to find him." Rhys came to sit next to Geralt, leaning against the headboard. 

"I would have had a much harder time with not worrying if Duncan had continued doing shadowwork. It's hard, letting go again after something like this happens no matter what you do, but with you and Eskel it's especially hard." He traced a pattern on Geralt's thigh as he thought.

"Going with him doesn't solve anything, and you don't really want to do that. Eskel knows that, and you know that. It would just make you both unhappy." With a sigh, Rhys nestled into Geralt, mindful of the freshly healed wound.

"I'm not happy to see him go out on the Path either. But it's his choice. And he wouldn't be happy, staying here for good." Rhys perked up and sat so he could look Geralt in the face. "You could ask him to send you a watcher spirit every now and then? They are not the best for carrying complex or long messages, but letting you know where Eskel is and that he is well, that they can do."

***

Draping his arm around Rhys’ shoulders, Geralt brought him into his space and thought while Rhys talked. He had a hard time imagining someone as strong and fast as Duncan being captured, but then Eskel was no spring fawn either and circumstances had gone poorly for him.

At mention of the watcher Geralt stifled a laugh and actually grinned. “That little wolf that yells in the house?”

“I think he doesn’t conjure those up around here very much anymore because they’re not the smartest.” Geralt was aware that Eskel did conjure them up to send messages through the portal in Novigrad to Rhys. When he was up there on the Path and staying for a day or two and lonely. 

Sometimes the orks even came over to visit Eskel up there. Duncan popping in for a hug and dinner before quietly stepping back to Wales and over to Corvo for a night or two with Geralt. 

“I never thought of them as useful, to be honest. Maybe I’ll talk to him about it. When it comes up. I am not poking the wolf about it though. It will happen faster than I want it to on its own.” Kissing Rhys on the crown of his head Geralt squeezed his shoulders. “It can’t be easy for you either. Especially not if this has happened before, with Duncan.” Or on Duncan.

“Speaking of getting back to things. I need to get back to that pit. I’ll be damned if Eskel takes a contract there in two months because the place is crawling with graveirs feasting on unburnt bodies.” There was also the matter of two men who weren’t dead yet. Geralt had every intention of changing that and he didn’t see any reason to burden Rhys, Eskel, or Duncan with that information.

If they had seen Rhys and the kind of magic he could do, nothing like what mages on the Continent did, it would be worth a fortune to Nilfgaard or any other ruler with the coffers to pay. Geralt simply wasn’t willing to take that risk. 

One of his loved ones being taken was enough. Aside from that, they had participated in the making and selling of fisstech and the torture of Eskel whether directly or not. They were not good men and they would not be missed.

Footsteps in the kitchen put Geralt’s mind further at ease. Duncan and Eskel were down there, probably scrounging for food. “I don’t want to leave but I need to get that done, and at least I know Eskel is safe with you and Duncan while I do it. Come on let’s go join them, have some lunch.”

***

Rhys didn't let go of Geralt yet. "Take Duncan with you. He will want to go, don't fight him on this. And if you're going after the patrol, you might not need his help but I don't think you should turn it down either." 

Geralt hadn't mentioned wanting to do this, but Rhys knew Duncan planned on it. It was why Rhys had healed them both of what was left of their injuries as best as he could, even though he wasn't back to full health himself either. And Rhys would rather see them do this together.

***

“Hrmm,” Geralt almost growled under his breath, frustration sweeping over him. Not at Rhys. Not really. At the inability to simply leave and get this done. He’d said nothing of the sort to Rhys and he felt very called out by the mention of exactly what he intended to do. “We’ll see.”

Downstairs Eskel was seated at Marlene’s long table next to Duncan. They had clearly been booted out of her kitchen and were waiting for her to bring them a proper meal. The sight of Eskel whole and healthy— save a few lingering bruises that were fading fast— made Geralt pause at the bottom of the stairs.

Hugging Eskel from behind Geralt kissed the side of his head, freshly washed hair silky under his lips. “You’ve been out to your oranges, I can smell it.” It brought a smile to Geralt’s face despite all the recent grimness. B.B. and Rhys had worked hard to make a space perfect for the trees for Eskel and Eskel loved it there.

No sooner had they all found a chair than Marlene was bringing out fresh baked breads, fruit jellies, soft cheeses, and cured fish. Right after that she returned with a baked custard and a pitcher of goat’s milk. There were already freshly picked pears on the table and Geralt grabbed a couple to start slicing up.

“After lunch I’m going to head back. Clean up that pit. Burn the bodies so they don’t attract ghouls.” It was only two knights and Geralt preferred to hunt alone. He was sure he could take them down without any problems, especially now that he wasn’t hurt. 

But then he thought of how he felt about Eskel going out right now and doing _anything_ and understood a bit of Rhys’ concern. If Duncan insisted on joining him, Geralt decided he wouldn’t refuse. As long as someone stayed with Eskel and as long as Duncan didn’t argue about the fate of the two they’d missed.

***

Duncan was halfway through emptying a mug of goat milk. He had developed a taste for it here and he was a bit sad they couldn't get it fresh back home. 

"I'd like to come with. It's a lot of bodies." And he intended to add two more. Geralt did, too, he was sure about that. Duncan didn't really think Geralt needed his help for _that_ but he still wanted to go. Right now, he didn't feel like letting anyone go anywhere alone.

***

Rhys had been drizzling honey over a piece of bread piled high with goat cheese. He put it down and leaned forwards, arms on the table. 

"Can we just say it? You are going to go after that patrol, both of you. Spirits, stop dancing around it. Do you really think after last night, and after what they did, I will argue for their lives? Or that I don't know how dangerous it is if they saw what happened and talk about it?" 

Rhys glared both at Duncan and Geralt, but softened his tone. "It's true that I don't much like the thought of killing more people, or of you doing it. But please, let's be at least honest about it."

***

The silver knife Eskel had been holding clattered to the table. Currant jelly splattered halfway to his bread and fish. In the silence that fell over the room even Eskel’s shocked whisper was clear. “You left some of them alive?” One of Eskel’s hands gripped the table, knuckles white, and the other balled into a fist.

 _Well fuck_. Geralt wondered just how many people he’d pissed off now. “Unfortunately. Two guards, on patrol. They may or may not have seen anything. It doesn’t matter. At least not to me. They were involved in keeping you there and in the Fallen Knights’ criminal activities.”

Geralt looked across the table at Rhys. “I’m sorry if I upset you by trying not to put it at your feet. I don’t want to put any more misery on your shoulders than there already is. I have always dealt with it, it’s a part of me and it doesn’t disturb me. I-” Geralt stumbled and thought carefully, “-I, find it good? That you don’t like the thought of this and so I tried to shield you from it. That’s all.”

Rhys was already cleaning up the currant jelly but Eskel hadn’t moved an inch. Geralt was about to reassure him that Duncan would help him take care of it when Eskel spoke up. “I wanna come. I wanna make them regret what they did to me.”

***

"I'd rather if you just killed them and be done with it." Rhys reached over to Eskel, one open hand flat on the table without touching him, but inviting him.

"I don't appreciate being lied to, and that includes trying to keep me in the dark about what you are actually planning. I want to know so if something went wrong, I wouldn't have to start by unraveling what you didn't tell me. No, I don't like the thought of killing. But that doesn't mean I don't see the necessity of it, or that you need to protect me from it. Or that I won't do it if I need to." Rhys breathed and tried to calm the anger at Geralt's words.

"I won't come with you, mostly because after healing all of you, I'll probably pass out again if I tried a big spell. And you don't need that to worry about."

***

Duncan had waited for Rhys to finish. They had had that discussion before. "I'm sorry, I should have known better."

"I agree with Rhys, I want them dead but I don't want to draw it out. That won't help anyone, least of all you, Eskel. I've been there. But I won't tell you that you can't come." Geralt wouldn't like that, but Duncan knew very well how he'd react in Eskel's place. And he wasn't about to fight Eskel on this.

***

One look around the table told Geralt he’d already lost this argument before he’d even got a word in. Eskel would be coming whether he liked it or not, and he did _not_ like it at all. Though when he tried to find the words to tell Eskel why he should stay with Rhys, Geralt couldn’t articulate exactly why. Perhaps Rhys was right, maybe it was a simple desire to protect those who didn’t need protecting.

Scorpion seemed happy to be out of the stable and out on the trail. Eskel was. The gentle shift and sway of his stallion under him settled his body, letting Eskel digest Duncan’s words from earlier. _I’ve been there_. Eskel trusted Duncan and valued his opinion highly.

So it meant something when Duncan said he’d been there and that drawing out the death of two men wouldn’t make Eskel feel any better about what had happened. Eskel thought back to when he’d been told Geralt was dead, and the murderous path he’d launched on afterwards. How he’d tortured and maimed anyone in his way for information, and the ones he felt were responsible. How he’d still drank himself numb for months after and he wondered if Duncan wasn’t exactly right.

The torture had changed nothing about how he felt in the end. It felt good in the moment. But so did fisstech. That wasn’t a reason to do it again and again until his nose rotted and ran.

Eskel prodded his own mind for the real reason he had instantly wanted to come along when he’d found out there were still some remaining Fallen Knights alive. To put an end to this, to close the door on what had happened so he could move on. The patrol being dead would achieve that.

Nudging Scorpion up between Roach and Jasper on the wide trail Eskel pushed his way in. “I jus’ wanna see them dead. Tha’s all I need.”

“Alright.” Geralt’s voice was tight and Eskel knew he wasn’t happy that he was already back out fighting but he didn’t care either. They would sort that out later.

Duncan only nodded and they continued on. The pit was not as far away from Corvo as Eskel would have thought. Only a few hours ride. If only he had known that when he was stuck in the bottom of it, maybe he would have fought harder when he tried to escape. Maybe he’d have made it past the gates. 

When they’d pulled Eskel out he’d been so doped up on the Knight’s strange blend of fisstech that he hadn’t been able to judge time or distance. Seeing it like this was disturbing in a different way. Frowning Eskel pushed the thought from his mind for now, they had work to do.

***

Before the pit even came into view Geralt pulled Roach up short when Duncan halted Jasper and made a fist in the air. The three of them fell into an instinctual silence. Geralt honed his senses but the area around them sounded dead, only a hare in the bushes far away to the left.

“Go on foot from here?” Geralt had a feeling the patrol would still be somewhere around and he didn’t want to be heard coming.

Duncan answered with a nod.

Slowly moving forward the smell of ozone tickled at Geralt’s nose. Artrí was nearby, hidden in the astral plane, a reassuring comfort to Rhys that he would know exactly where they were. They skirted the entire pit to the right. Nothing, not a sound. 

Far behind it though Geralt grabbed Duncan’s shoulder silently, pointing to the north. Through the trees the echo of two voices filtered down to him, from farther up on the ridge.

***

Duncan listened and when the wind changed, he finally heard what has caught Geralt's attention, just at the cusp of his hearing.

"Let's come at them from two sides. I'll go that way. I'll wait for you to attack. You can track me. I can't track you." Pointing to the east of the spot where he thought the men were, Duncan waited for Eskel and Geralt to nod and then took off.

Dusk slowly turned into true darkness but Duncan had no problem finding his path. Orks saw in the dark as good as witchers. The closer he got, the better he could hear the men even though they only talked quietly among themselves. Eskel and Geralt might as well have vanished, they moved noiselessly even without trying.

It didn't take long until Duncan could see the shine of a small campfire, smell cooking and hear the quiet snort of horses. The knights had made an attempt to hide their armor under normal clothes, probably not keen on being recognized. One of them was stirring a small pot. They had a horse each, and saddlebags that looked heavy. 

Duncan hunkered down in the undergrowth at a distance he knew he could cross in a few long strides and waited. 

After only a few breaths, Eskel and Geralt attacked, appearing out of the darkness without any warning. The knight on the far side of the fire turned and ran, cut off from the horses and obviously not willing to fight Eskel, or help his brother against Geralt. He ran right into Duncan, fleeing blindly. Grabbing him and using his momentum, Duncan took him down with the heavy crash of armor.

He looked up to see Eskel almost on top of them and got the hell out of the way. The knight would never get up in time.

***

Hopping over the underbrush that crowded his way, Eskel landed with a thud and only the slightest twinge in his right leg to tell him it had ever been broken. He barreled forward after the fleeing knight just in time to see Duncan twist out of his way.

In less than a moment Eskel was on the man, foot planted hard in his lower back to keep him down. Pure fury drowned out the sound of the heartbeats around Eskel— the ones he knew well, and the hummingbird fast one beneath his boot— all he could smell was the fisstech powdering the knights armor under his loose tunic.

Chaos tingled at his fingertips and Eskel let it come. Curled it in his hand and wound it up, storing it there until he could hold no more. Then Eskel moved his fingers deliberately in Igni and set the burning flow towards the man's terrified face. It wasn't like Geralt's or even Rhys', a ball of fire and then gone, but a steam of flame directed and held.

Only when the Chaos in his hand ran dry did Eskel let his fingers relax. A sickly sweet smell of cooked meat permeated the air.

***

Duncan had watched from a distance as Eskel burned the knight to death. He had seen Rhys set people on fire before, but this was different, much more personal. And it was obvious that Eskel had chosen his Sign for that exact method, exacting revenge on this one man for all that had happened to him.

Finally, the knight had stopped screaming and writhing, only a burned and charred husk left, his armor partially melted. Duncan moved closer to Eskel who stood staring down at the corpse without moving.

"Let's go and burn the other one." Past Eskel, Duncan saw Geralt wipe his sword on the corpse of the second knight. He carefully touched Eskel's arm, gave it a squeeze. There was no need to ask Eskel how he felt, it was written all over his face in large letters. They weren't very clear letters for all their size, and Duncan doubted Eskel would have had words.

***

Eskel blinked up at Duncan, momentarily startled by the patient touch. It was fine though. Only Duncan, lips moving but no sound making it to Eskel over the rush of his blood in his ears. Trusting Duncan’s guidance, Eskel allowed Duncan to turn him gently by the elbow until he could see the other knight. Headless on the ground with Geralt standing over him blood soaked dark into the forest floor underneath him.

The whoosh of his own heart in his ears had died down and Eskel took a glance around, a real one. Horses saddled and loaded down with as much as they could carry along with a rider, Eskel's nose told him the saddlebags held more fisstech than belongings, and a quick thrown together fire that barely counted as a camp. They’d been ready to run from it all and get as far as they could.

Geralt stepped silently up to Eskel’s other side. “You want to burn this one? We should really burn them all, keep the ghouls and-”

“Yeah.” Geralt didn’t seem to know when to stop so Eskel cut him off. “I’ll do it.” 

“-alright.” Sword back in its sheath Geralt shifted his weight onto one foot and stood stock still.

The Igni came up instantly this time. Not the burning stream of fire of before, but the burst of flames that Geralt often used. A bright flash of fire that left the body dancing with flames after it passed. Eskel thought of the horses. The fear they probably felt at the smell of burning flesh.

“Should prolly pull the saddle bags off an’ burn that shit too. Cut the horses loose, they’ll be fine on their own.” Behind Eskel, Geralt moved to do just that.

The horses nickered and ran off as soon as they were free of their burdens and reins. The saddlebags were thrown over the burning body and Eskel lit it again. This time he let liquid fire roll off his hand to truly destroy what remained after making sure they were all upwind.

***

The walk back to the pit was quiet. Eskel didn’t make any sound moving along, which Geralt was used to, but he also didn’t speak, or even really look at them. And that worried Geralt. A great many things about this worried Geralt. Whether Eskel’s leg felt right jumping around in the bushes like that. If Eskel should be here at all. His face was written with anger and pain, and Geralt wasn’t sure all of that was directed at the knights he’d been burning back there.

Yet Eskel wasn’t speaking so neither was Geralt. And neither was Duncan apparently. This wasn’t the place anyway. Now that the two knights had been dealt with properly, Geralt was anxious to get Eskel back to Corvo and into a real bath, or curled up somehow onto a bed with all of them. He needed to hold Eskel and tell him that whatever he felt it was alright, that no one blamed him.

At the gate into the pit Eskel stopped, feet planted in place and eyes looking straight ahead into the dark. Geralt caught the slightest whisper.

“I was right here. Not even that far away from home.” Eskel sounded distressed and Geralt turned back to put his arms around him, slipping them under Eskel’s so he wouldn’t feel trapped.

“You couldn’t have known. We didn’t know at first.” Geralt hugged Eskel tight. “You don’t have to come in here if you don’t want to.”

“No. I want to. Jus’ need a moment s’all.” There was an edge of anger in Eskel’s voice but it was overridden by sheer determination.

***

Walking next to the witchers, Duncan never could help feeling like he was making an extraordinary amount of noise. He knew he wasn't but he certainly didn't walk as noiselessly as they did.

He watched carefully while Geralt tried his best to offer Eskel what comfort he could. When he thought Eskel has caught himself, Duncan pushed open the gate to the pit.

The two knights had not bothered with cleaning up, every body still lay where it fell. There was already the stench of decay and Duncan tried not to breathe too deeply. The steps where the first knights had met them were sticky with dried blood. Rats were scurrying around, startled by their presence.

"Let's get them all to the bottom and burn them there, along with the drugs?" He got a nod from Geralt, and went to work. While he dragged bodies down stairs and walkways, Duncan kept an eye on Eskel. Trying to focus on the task at hand, Eskel did not look or go near the cage where he had been kept. But he crept around it like a mongoose dancing around a snake, coming close and backing off again.

Duncan didn't comment on it. Eskel would go when he was ready. In the meantime, Duncan busied himself with finding wood suitable for a pyre. There was plenty around, the knights had been doing construction on their hideout and had obviously been planning to stay.

***

This was something Geralt was unfortunately well acquainted with. The stench of death and the need to dispose of a massive amount of bodies at once. _Usually_ it was not something Geralt had caused, but not always.

The great countries and empires of the Continent had a habit of clashing together with bloody and deadly results. It had kept Geralt and Eskel in work for many decades. Bodies brought monsters more often than not. Burning them to prevent that was simply the right thing to do. There was no point in removing one harm from the area only to bring another down on it.

Geralt saw Eskel, but mostly he watched Duncan. Eskel and Duncan had formed a distinctly close bond, one that transcended simple friendship or sexual interest, and Geralt trusted it. So when he saw that Duncan was watching Eskel closely but didn't seem worried, Geralt tried to let his own fear for Eskel go as well.

This was something Eskel was determined to do. Perhaps he needed it in a way. So despite Geralt's own raging need to keep Eskel safe now he tried to let Eskel have his space. Like he saw Duncan doing. Even though it pulled at him in an awkward uncomfortable way that Geralt did _not_ like.

***

The pit was rank with the smell of death and Eskel was grateful for it. It covered the stinging smell of fisstech that otherwise hung in the air. It was startling in a way, to see all the knights who’d taunted him, prodded him, hit and kicked him until his ribs cracked and broke, laying with gaping wounds and burnt flesh. Not a single one caused by him.

There was a fine sheen to their skin that made it hard to get a good grip so Eskel grabbed them by their armor instead. Dragging them down to the bottom of the pit where Duncan was building a pyre and Geralt was stacking the bodies onto it. They were building it on the other side of the pit from where Eskel had been kept and he tried hard not to look at the cage and the wooden wench that had hoisted him up inside of it once he’d tried to escape.

It was hard not to, though. The cage was the most prominent thing in the bottom of the pit aside from some tents and the pile of bodies they were accumulating. Eskel wanted to destroy the thing, but there was no real way. It was made of iron bars, and meant to last. Briefly he wondered if it would still smell like his stench, the one that had covered him when Rhys’ had pulled him out of it.

The thought made Eskel close his eyes hard for a moment, unsure how to handle the nausea that roiled in his gut at it.

When they’d piled every last body in the middle, along with all the fisstech Geralt had found, and stacked the whole thing with wood to keep it burning for a good long time, Geralt walked around throwing Igni at it until each side took well. Eskel stood mutely and watched it burn for a while.

“I wanna destroy that cage, ‘m gonna try a bomb.” Eskel didn’t wait for an answer, Duncan wouldn’t stop him and he knew it. And he hoped like Hells Geralt wouldn’t try to.

Approaching the cage reluctantly Eskel chose a bomb off of his belt with thought. He wanted the cage to be unusable when he was done with it. Hefting a Dragon’s Dream in his hand Eskel hesitated at the door. The memory of dimeritium shackles cut into his wrists, the ghost of hot blood running down his arms. Snapping back to the moment Eskel pulled at the door and set the bomb on the iron grated floor.

Eskel swung the door shut and dropped the latch, no sense in locking it. A twitch of his fingers lit the fuse and he jogged back to where Geralt and Duncan were watching him from near the burning bodies. Moments later green gas rolled out, leaking easily through the bars of the cage and Eskel held his left hand out. Cocking his palm up, Eskel signed Igni, a stream of fire hitting the gas straight on.

The explosion was deafening and the caged jumped in the air, tearing the rope from the wench before landing on its side in an unworkable mess of twisted iron. It might not be destroyed bar from bar from rivet, but it would never function again. 

Eskel let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding since he walked away from the cage after lighting the fuse. Suddenly he was very ready to leave. Pinching the bridge of his nose Eskel pushed back at the ache behind his eyes. Just a little while longer. He could lose it somewhere else, some other time, but not here.

***

"Let's get out of the pit. At least up there, we can breathe while we keep an eye on the fire." Duncan gave Eskel's hand a squeeze, and then Geralt's. They both looked exhausted and Duncan knew that the physical work had nothing to do with it.

He wanted to get out of here, too. It wasn't like he was squeamish, and he had seen his share of dead bodies. But he had never before piled them up on a pyre and watched them burn. A bit of distance and fresh air might help with the queasiness that had settled in his stomach.

Leaving Eskel and Geralt at the pit, Duncan went to get their horses. Jasper shied a little at the smell of burning flesh and fisstech, but Roach and Scorpion stayed calm. Duncan had no problems leading them to where they had settled down to wait while the fire burned.

Sitting down on a toppled tree, Duncan took out his waterskin and drank, offered it to Eskel. "I don't know about you but I'm taking the longest bath when we're back."

They had taken Eskel between them automatically, out of an unspoken desire to make him feel safe on Duncan's part. He was willing to bet Geralt felt the same way, just from how Geralt had looked at Eskel while they had worked. It was clearly as hard for Geralt not to say anything and let Eskel do what he needed to do as it was for Eskel to do it.

For some reason, Duncan found it easy. Maybe because he had been in Eskel's situation. But watching Geralt struggle with it, that was hard. Scooting closer, Duncan leaned into Eskel the slightest bit, just enough that Eskel could feel it. He reached behind him to touch Geralt's arm, offering a little comfort.

***

The offer of solidarity was too hard to pass up. Eskel leaned back into Duncan, resting his head on Duncan’s shoulder and closed his eyes. The smell was better up here and it was far enough away that Eskel felt like he could close his eyes and block out the sight of the pit for now.

Geralt leaned over into Eskel and Eskel took that as well. Unsure of what had come over him that he would allow this level of cuddling when out on the Path in a way. But it was keeping the horror and tears at bay so Eskel didn’t argue with himself over taking it right now.

Meditation poked at the corners of Eskel’s mind. He was safe between the other two, and up here it was mostly quiet. Still, Eskel couldn’t bring himself to be so vulnerable this close to where he’d been kept so instead he sat in silence with his eyes shut softly.

Several hours past and the pyre had burnt down. Geralt went down into the pit alone, and with a few huge gusts of Aard put the fire out. Soon they were on their horses headed back to Corvo. Eskel was slumped over his pommel, not from injury, but from the mental exhaustion of having faced it all.

“Think you’re right, Duncan. Gonna have a nice long hot tub when we get back. Let someone scrub every inch of skin I can’t reach on my own, then soak until the water is cold.” That earned Eskel a smile from Duncan and a grunt of agreement from Geralt.

Rhys greeted them at the stables, a game of Gwent spread out on the table on the front porch table where he’d left B.B. as soon as he saw the dust trails their horses were leaving on the path. After giving a long hug to Rhys, Eskel gave him a quick peck on the cheek and strolled up to B.B. to request a bath.

With a nod and a firm handshake that ended in B.B. clapping Eskel on the shoulder, Eskel took all his work gear to the cellar to be rid of it for a while. Then he made straight for the bedroom he shared with Geralt and the giant wooden tub that B.B. had already had drug in from the back.

After a long bath, a short nap and a very late breakfast where they had by silent agreement avoided all talk of the last two nights, Duncan had excused himself and gone to bed. He had asked if anyone wanted to join him, and Eskel had taken him up on the offer.

Both Rhys and Geralt were still too keyed up to sleep or even lie down. Rhys had napped and rested during the night, comforted by Artrí's report that the others were safe. 

"Would you take a walk with me? I think I want to stretch my legs." Rhys took a pear from the fruit bowl for the way.

Geralt hesitated, but then nodded. Rhys wasn't sure if he just couldn't bear to leave him out of his sight, or if he really wanted the walk. But the result was the same, and soon they found themselves following the brook flowing through Corvo.

"How are you?" Rhys watched Geralt walk, and noticed the ways his shoulders slumped. Maybe it was just exhaustion from everything that had happened and would go away when he finally slept. Maybe it was more.

***

Geralt almost stopped in his tracks at the question. “Me? I am not the one we should be worried about. Of course I am stressed out, but Eskel is the one that looks like he might scream and stab something at the drop of a basket.”

When Rhys simply stopped and looked at him, Geralt’s chest collapsed further in on itself and he became aware of how awful his posture was. Vesemir would have yelled at him. “I mean, I am struggling to give him space. Sometimes it seems like he might want it, or need it. And I just can’t. I see him with Duncan and Duncan _does_ back off. Then Eskel looks relieved and I wonder if I am being an overprotective asshole.”

Geralt shook his head. “You have to understand. Things like this happen to witchers, on the Path. It’s dangerous and if he goes back out again, something else might happen. I let him- he came with Duncan and I because how can I argue with three of you?”

Hearing the words come out of his mouth Geralt was aware how ridiculous it sounded. He didn’t _let_ Eskel do anything. Eskel was a grown man over a century old who made his own damn choices. That was part of what was so terrifying right now. Geralt couldn’t really stop him from going back out and risking his life again. Eskel wouldn’t want him to.

“I couldn't, there was no way not to. I'd already lost. Just like I will have already lost with him about going back on the Path when he’s decided he’s ready.” And suddenly all the emotions that Geralt had held back for days came flooding forward. He wanted to do nothing more than cry and be held by Eskel.

But he couldn’t because Eskel was in no place to comfort anyone right now. “I’m helpless, Rhys. I can’t do anything to keep him safe!” Geralt made a beeline for the nearest tree, sitting down on the ground in front of it. The stream ran by in front of him, its gentle burble a soothing sound.

***

Following Geralt, Rhys sat next to him, close enough that their shoulders touched. He put one hand on Geralt's leg, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I know. It's hard, and it will take a long time to get better. For both of you. All of us. Finding the right balance between giving Eskel space and being there for him isn't easy. I think Duncan finds it easier than you because he pretty much acts like he'd want people to act if he were in Eskel's position. And it works. They're very similar, in so many things." Rhys smiled a little at the thought of just how similar they were, and how well they understood each other.

"I hate it but I've been through this with Duncan, in a way. And that makes it a little- not easier. But I can remember what helped Duncan and me back then." 

Taking Geralt's hand, Rhys interlaced their fingers and rested it on his thigh, watching Geralt. He looked like he was barely holding it together, more exhausted than Rhys has ever seen him.

"You need to let him make his decisions. And that will involve letting him out of your sight, and very probably letting him go on the Path again. But there's no shame in being frightened, in needing help, and in talking about it. Don't hide this from Eskel, that doesn't do anyone any good. He knows you're worrying, don't you think? You might as well share it." Rhys leaned into Geralt, giving his jaw a quick kiss.

***

“I’m not good at keeping these things inside. I’ve tried because I don’t want to add to his own worries. I know though, from the past, it will all come out at the worst possible moment.” Geralt leaned in Rhys and squeezed his hand.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe I should let him see this, now, before I fall apart later.” Soothed by Rhys’ hand Geralt gave up and merely laid down on his side and put his head on Rhys’ leg. The urge to shout and cry seeped away with every pass of Rhys’ hand through Geralt’s hair.

“I know I have to let him go, and let him make his own choices. Eskel has always done that with me. Always. And that’s important to me. While he might let me be fragile around here, he never once treated me as though I couldn’t hold my own out on the Path.” Geralt wished he found it as easy now as he had before, or as it had always seemed for Eskel.

“I am scared though. Scared he won’t come back again, scared I won’t be able to find him next time, scared we won’t get to him in time.” Eyes closed Geralt listened to the burble of the brook, and concentrated on Rhys’ fingers.

“Duncan is able to give Eskel a lot of what he needs right now, and I’m not jealous of that. Truthfully I am relieved that at least one of us seems to know exactly what to do for him. I’d never be able to walk away with you and get this out if I didn’t know Eskel was comfy and tucked away with him.” That was the truest thing Geralt had said. Being able to leave Eskel with Duncan was a huge weight off his own shoulders. A way to share the burden of wanting to keep his eyes on Eskel at all times even if he realized that Duncan might actually let Eskel out of his sight if Eskel wanted it.

“Of course he’s going to want to get back to the Path at some point but I wonder if Eskel would be open to coming to London for a bit first. _That_ would ease my mind.” Maybe Geralt would talk to Eskel about it, see if he would.

***

"You are very welcome. Duncan and I will have to travel for a few days once we get back but you can absolutely just come with us and have the apartment for yourself while we do that. A bit of time all by yourself is maybe not the worst thing for you right now." Rhys had pushed his fingers into Geralt's hair and massaged his scalp with gentle pressure.

"And yes, tell Eskel now. I can see how much you struggle to keep it together, and he can see it for sure. You're only adding to his worries if you try to hide it. Better to have it all out in the open." 

Leaning back against the tree, Rhys looked out over the hills towards Corvo, dappled by the shadows of clouds. "And as far as protecting him goes: nothing really has changed about that. The Path is no more and no less dangerous now. Eskel is no less able to defend himself than he was before. But I do agree with you that he should give it some time, let his mind deal with what happened in a place where he is safe, and surrounded by people who care for him."

"I don't think any of us can tell what kind of consequences this will have, not now. Maybe he'll shake it quickly, maybe not. But there's no sense in trying to plan for every eventuality now. I should know, I like to try. But even I know that it doesn't work that way. It's better to take this one day at a time." The idea of having Geralt and Eskel in London was a relief for Rhys, he very much wanted to be close to them. And he understood Geralt well. As long as Eskel was in London, he wouldn't go back on the Path. He would be safe.

Eskel made himself small in Duncan’s arms. That Duncan was that much larger than him made it even easier to feel engulfed, one of Duncan’s thick biceps serving as a pillow. Eskel breathed in and out in unhurried breaths, wiggling until he felt settled. 

In the end he had pulled Duncan’s leg over his lower body and let the weight hold him still.

It was comforting and perfectly warm. Not too hot like the fisstech overwhelming his body, or too cold like the cage had been. Eskel had expected to fall apart here, without Geralt to see him, and where he knew he wouldn’t have to worry about what Duncan thought at all. But he didn’t. It was too cozy and safe in Duncan’s arms, under his leg, to even have the need.

Instead Eskel laid still once he was at ease, and simply let his mind empty. All the fears, anger, and agitation of the trip leaving him without Eskel even noticing. He was left light and content, face pushed into Duncan’s muscled chest, impossibly soft linen tunic against his scars. Eskel was aware of drifting off. He’d already slept, but not like this. This was _restful_ easy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Info:  
> graphic violence/murder  
> discussions of trauma/ptsd


	5. Noodle Soup for the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eskel had taken over the orks' kitchen after a quick trip up to their rooftop garden to grab a few vegetables and fresh herbs. It was a relief to see him there, busily working on _something_ he’d watched Duncan cook once. It smelled delicious, like salt and the sea and something earthy— mushrooms? _  
> Cooking, shopping and recovery.

The rain had finally let up outside and Eskel had gone around the apartment, opening windows to let the smell in. It wasn’t like the smell after rain back home but it was still refreshing in its own way and Geralt had grown to love the scent of wet brick and asphalt, mixed with the undertones of life from all the local rooftop gardens. The ones he couldn’t see from down here but knew were there.

Eskel had taken over the orks' kitchen after a quick trip up to their rooftop garden to grab a few vegetables and fresh herbs. It was a relief to see him there, busily working on _something_ he’d watched Duncan cook once. It smelled delicious, like salt and the sea and something earthy— mushrooms? 

Sneaking around Eskel, Geralt hunted in the fridge for a beer. Pulling out two he opened both and set one the counter by the stove for Eskel before taking up a spot on the counter himself. 

“That smells amazing. You want some music to cook to?” Eskel might have become master of the stove— and oven and mixer— but Geralt still had a leg up on him when it came to operating anything with an interface. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah.” Looking up from a pot of boiling soup that he’d added oyster sauce to. Behind it was a pot boiling a fresh egg. Eskel loved that the orks traded so much from their garden with their neighbors. “Can you bring up The Beatles for me? That under the sea song, Octopus’ Garden I think?”

Unthinkingly Eskel grabbed the beer sitting there and took a sip. Stir frying the itty bitty squids he’d found in the freezer along with slices of fresh carrot and onion from the garden. He smirked to himself at the irony of the song in the background as they sizzled in his pan. Fishing out the egg with a spoon he dropped it into a glass of cold water until he needed it and placed noodles in the boiling pot in its stead.

By the time Eskel had finished and put the noodles into bowls, ladling soup over the top and slicing the egg in half to rest in the nest of noodles Geralt had moved over to the table taking both their beers. Eskel took out two sets of chopsticks out of the drawer, hesitating for a second. “You want a rubberband?”

“No!” Geralt snorted into his beer. “You gonna tell me what you made?”

“Mmm, somethin’ like Cantonese noodles?” Eskel poked a set of chopsticks into each bowl, adding a wide spoon to go with them.

Setting down a bowl of steaming broth, vegetable, squid, and noodles with half an egg balanced precariously in it in front of Geralt, Eskel kissed him. A short passing thankyou for asking Eskel to come here for a while. It had been good for them both to have some time alone in a place they felt safe.

Safe enough that Eskel asked Geralt if he would come to the park with him this morning for Tai Chi. It wasn’t quite the same without Duncan there, but the familiar movements did ease tension that built up in his body after three days of sitting still in the apartment. And Eskel was _sure_ that Geralt was happier having been asked to go with him rather than being told Eskel was going alone.

Eskel was gathering his hoodie afterwards when Geralt came up and took his hand, giving him a peck on the cheek that made Eskel want to blush despite the empty park and early hour. 

“They won’t be back until late morning. Why don’t we go to Leo’s Mud, Bug, and Soy for that green tea you like?” Geralt’s face was beaming relaxation and Eskel didn’t want to say no to it. Besides it _was_ nice getting out.

“Alright.” Tugging Geralt along by the hand, Eskel led the way.

Duncan put down their bags in his room with a long sigh. They had started the drive early in the morning, coming down from Scotland where Rhys had hunted for and found some Awakened plants for a client. There had been a minor incident with a group of golden boar that they had narrowly escaped only with the help of Artrí but otherwise things had gone well. With the plants delivered, they had been anxious to get home. 

Geralt and Eskel were not there, but there was a note on the table in the hallway that they had gone out for Tai Chi and tea. Duncan messaged Geralt to let him know they were back and turned to Rhys. "Want to grab a shower before they come back?"

"Gladly." Rhys went to grab some fresh clothes and accompanied Duncan to the bathroom. They had mostly lived in a tent for the last couple of days and both of them just stood under the hot water for a while, letting it wash over them. 

In the midst of their shower, Duncan heard the apartment door, and voices. They finished their shower without hurrying and trooped into the living room to find Eskel and Geralt on the couch. They had brought tea, and scones that were still warm and had already gotten plates, jam and cream out of the kitchen.

A round of hugs and kisses later, and some pets for the vine on the shelf above the couch that had been waving its leaves, Rhys flopped down on the couch between Eskel and Geralt. He grabbed a scone to pile it high with cream. "Did you enjoy your time alone?"

Duncan sat next to Geralt and accepted a cup of green tea from him, breathing in the delicate scent. He thought Eskel looked better, less drawn. Less jumpy, too. And Geralt looked like he had finally gotten several full nights of sleep.

***

“Yeah.” Eskel sipped his own green tea, enjoying the smooth flavor of it on his tongue for a moment before continuing. “It was good for us. Me. There was some routine to things, reasons to get outta bed every mornin’. The garden to water an’ care for.”

Eskel gave a half smirk. “No Marlene. I gotta cook if I don’ want Geralt there to starve.”

There was a lot of truth in his statements though and Eskel was sure both orks would catch it. Without the entire staff of Corvo bustling around, there were things that actually needed doing daily. Like taking care of the roof garden, and he had used that routine to fit himself back together much the same way he would have if he’d been injured decades ago on the path without all the eyes pointed at him.

Get up, get going, move on. It was so much easier to do if he didn’t stop moving in the first place. 

It was also helpful to be shut in an apartment with Geralt for a few days. It had forced Geralt to admit his shaky hold on his own emotions and fears to Eskel. Those were much easier to address head on when Eskel knew exactly what they were.

“To be honest though, we haven’ left the apartment ‘till this mornin’. I needed to get out to the park for Tai Chi an’ Geralt suggested tea would be a good idea too. I think he was right.” Eskel resumed sipping his tea. He’d already demolished one scone on the walk home and wanted to pace himself, though he was eyeballing a raspberry orange one.

***

Nodding along while he chewed through a zingy ginger scone that he’d dabbed with cream, Geralt hummed and rinsed it down with his chai. “It was a good idea. We needed the space. Also Eskel is a good cook, and don’t ever tell Marlene this but I enjoy letting him take over the kitchen sometimes.”

Biting off more scone Geralt marveled at how it was almost sweet enough that Eskel would love it but then burned at his tongue afterward. “I’m glad you’re back though, because pretty soon we’d have to go to the store, and while I am good at paying for things and Eskel knows what he wants mostly-” Geralt raised his eyebrows at Duncan as if to say, _nope not yet_.

“I only like the little stores.” Eskel huffed.

Turning his back a bit toward Duncan, Geralt watched as Eskel gave in and nabbed the raspberry orange scone, splitting it deftly and slathering jam in the middle before taking a bite. The look on his face was something Geralt never wanted to lose. Peaceful, content, and safe.

“We’re in no hurry.” Geralt watched Eskel closely for any disagreement on that statement. He was certainly not in a hurry to go back and let Eskel loose on the Continent yet. “We’ll stay with you for a bit. But don’t let us interrupt your work. Come and go if you need to. We’ll be fine as long as you keep groceries in the fridge.”

***

"We can do that." Rhys wiped a speck of cream from his nose and licked his fingers. "We won't need to travel for a bit, at least not outside of London much. And we have stuff we can do from home. You'll need to entertain yourself for a couple of hours most days, but I think you'll manage." 

"I was planning to go get groceries for the week." He nodded at Geralt. "Want to come? You can practice your reading and if you get it wrong, we'll have to get creative with cooking." 

With all the scones eaten and the tea cups empty, Rhys could feel the tiredness setting in and he'd rather get everything done so they could cuddle in peace later. Geralt scooted off the couch to come with him and Rhys tapped his commlink. "Here. I'll send you the shopping list."

***

Duncan stretched, petting the vine as he did. "I'm going to go start a load of laundry. Scotland was incredibly muddy, and where it wasn't, it was full of midges. I swear they tried to eat us alive. Should have asked for hazard pay on that one."

Laundry started and dishes cleared away, Eskel and he met again in the living room and agreed on a game of Abalone. They didn't talk much after setting it up, content with simply being in the company of each other. The click of the marbles was the only sound in the room for a while until Eskel had managed to push six of Duncan's black ones off the board.

"Geralt seems a lot more relaxed. But he's not eager to have you out on the Path, that's for sure." Duncan gathered up the marbles to rearrange them for a rematch. There was a hidden question in his words, several in fact. But he was fine with Eskel ignoring all of them if he so chose.

***

Eskel watched Duncan’s hands as he calmly reset the board. With a whirl of his hand over the marbles Duncan turned the game to give Eskel the first turn this time around. “He is. He needed this, so did I.”

Thinking over his move, Eskel also thought about his words. He was aware that Geralt was not the only one who was not thrilled at the idea of him returning to the Path, and the pull wasn’t there for him yet, but it would be eventually. 

In the end he decided that was the honest answer. “‘M not ready to go back out yet. I won’ stay home forever, but this was good for me. I don’ have to go out an’ walk the Path, it’s… a drive?”

“We talked. He’s terrified. ‘M gonna send a watcher back every few days when I do, when the drive returns, with where ‘m at, how ‘m doin’. ‘S not perfect but it’ll ease his mind, an’ maybe both of yours too.” Setting three of his fingers on three of his marbles Eskel rolled them forward until they clicked into place in the next spot. 

“Geralt’d like to see me retire like him, but that won’ happen an’ he knows that. Accepts it. Even though it’s hard for him.” Eskel watched with hawk eyes when Duncan made his move. “But for right now, I think a few weeks of- what d’you call it, vacation? I think I’ve earned it.”

***

"I can understand that need. I stopped doing shadowwork right after Rhys had gotten me out. I never liked doing it anyway, so that wasn't hard. But if Rhys would have wanted me to stay home all the time and, I don't know, take care of his garden or something, I wouldn't have done that. Couldn't have." Duncan thought for a bit about his next move, and his next words, before marbles clicked into place.

"The watcher is a good idea. For all of us. I know I'm going to worry. I always do. But hearing from you will help with that." 

For a bit, the click of the marbles on the wooden board was the only sound again. Then Duncan pushed the first of Eskel's marbles off the board. 

"It will come back to you when you don't expect it. From the smallest things. You won't see it coming. Sometimes you do, when it's something really obvious. But that's the easy ones. Find something to remind you that it's over, at least that worked for me. I had Rhys give me some of his incense. Smells like home for me, and safety." Duncan shrugged, half expecting Eskel to say he didn't need advice. But that was more his own awkwardness talking. Rhys was better at this, Duncan thought, at giving advice.

***

“Hmm.” Eskel watched his marbles get pushed into the moat. “Tha’s prolly a good idea. This ‘s not the first time I’ve been locked up, or the first time I’ve been tortured. ‘S jus’ the first time I cared if I lived through it this much? That so many people cared if I did?”

Eskel shook his head, hair falling into his eye and he raked his fingers through it to get it out of his way, studying the board. _Click. Click. Click._ Sighing Eskel explained as best he could. “It did matter to me before. When it was jus’ Geralt an’ me, but not like it does now. I was more reckless back then. So was he.”

“This ‘s also the first time that it lasted so long.” Eskel frowned. He’d been doing better when Duncan opened and when he wasn’t distracted by this conversation. It was one that he needed though and the game taking half his mind likely allowed him to have it with much less anger and frustration overall.

“Maybe I can take a bit of all of you with me. I don’t know, I’ll have to think on it, figure out somehow to remind m’self you’re all there.” Duncan’s marbles rolled into the moat and Eskel stood up, suddenly done talking. “You want another tea? ‘M gonna make m’self a mug.”

***

"Please. There's gunpowder tea in the black tin, some of that for me?" Duncan watched Eskel retreat to the kitchen, taken aback at the sudden turn. A spike of worry that he had overstepped his bounds brought him to his feet, and into the kitchen.

Eskel's easy smile laid those worries mostly to rest, and Duncan leaned against the counter to watch Eskel make tea. "I'm glad you're giving yourself time, in any case. You'll know when you're ready."

He reached up for the cookie tin on the highest shelf and gave it a hopeful shake. "We still have some pecan cookies, want some? Oh and I was going to go to BJJ tomorrow, if you want to you can come along? You don't need to roll with anyone, but you can."

***

Eskel smiled relieved at the change of topic. “I always want a cookie, you know that.”

Looking at his cookie Eskel dunked it in the sencha he had made for himself. Munching his way through it Eskel washed it down with a cautious sip of tea. After that first mishap with the chai and cow’s milk Eskel had found there were a great deal of teas he liked. Aldith would have been proud.

Leaving his cup to cool a little bit more, Eskel walked right up to Duncan and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. “Thanks for the advice. I mean it. I need it, ‘m jus’ a bit, I dunno- sore, still? That they were able to keep me down for so long. Sometime’s talkin’ ‘bout it jus’ irks me. I don’ know why an’ I don’ think I will.”

Eskel pulled away reaching up to ruffle the top of Duncan’s mohawk. “BJJ sounds like fun. ‘M not gonna hop on a mat with anyone, but I’d love to jus’ watch. Can learn a lot that way, plus watching you fight is always sorta relaxin’. I took Geralt to watch me do Tai Chi today, but it wasn’t the same without you there.”

Returning to his tea Eskel was only a little surprised by how true it had been. Geralt enjoyed watching, but Eskel had grown to love his routine with Duncan of going for a run or Tai Chi in the morning. Moving and getting the thoughts out of his head. He needed it more than ever now.

***

The hug had quieted the last of Duncan's anxiety, and he had squeezed Eskel hard. "Sometimes, you're just done talking. I don't mind - tell me if you'd rather not talk about it if I bring it up."

He took the leaves out of his tea and sipped it carefully. "Do you want to finish the game? Or we can just hang out on the couch until Rhys and Geralt are back, or the washing machine is done, whatever happens first."

***

“Let’s finish the game. And yeah, tha’s it, I think I was jus’ done for the moment. I’d letcha know if I didn’t wanna talk about when you brought it up, sometimes I jus’ I don’ know, ‘m done even though I was fine when I started s’ all.” Eskel shrugged and headed back to the living room with his tea. Duncan followed him and they sat back down to the game. The quiet click of the marbles the only accompaniment to their comfortable silence.

Geralt stared at the word. _Noodles_. The word itself was clear enough. He could read it fine. At least he was fairly sure he was right. That, that was what the letters on his comm spelled out, but the question he had was… what type of noodles? The kind that went in the spaghetti, or the kind that went in what Eskel had made last night?

Standing in the aisle Geralt was bombarded by boxes and bags of noodles. Some shaped like sea animals—why?— some hollow and bent, others looked like the right kind for the spaghetti and even said what Geralt suspected was ‘spaghetti’ on them. Then further down the row there was another set of noodles that were labeled rice noodles and those Geralt was sure were the kind Duncan used to make dishes like the one Eskel had cooked up.

Geralt was determined that he could do this. Read all these cartons and bags without Rhys, and Rhys had sent him off to get a few things alone. But that didn’t stop him from having this kind of problem. Tapping out a quick message on his comm Geralt decided he would ask what kind, but not ask for help finding them. A compromise.

_Rhys- What kind of noodles? Rice or pasta?_

Geralt looked around at the other things in the isle while he awaited a response. The light on his commlink blinked red and Geralt brought up the message.

_Egg._

What in the seven Hells? Egg noodles? Geralt went hunting among the words. Perhaps these were noodles shaped like eggs. Why not? There had been noodles shaped like shells. Geralt spotted some round looking pasta. 

“Ore- Orecchiette.” Nope. Egg was egg and Geralt knew that it did not have an O in it let alone was it that long.

Then something sparked in his mind. In Kaer Morhen as small children, before they were old enough to even practice with wooden swords, they gathered the eggs and brought them to the kitchen. Sometimes the eggs were eaten boiled whole, sometimes they went in bread, and sometimes they went in the noodles of soup. Noodles made with eggs in them.

Geralt grinned viciously at the wall of boxes and bags. Now he had an idea what to look for. Scanning the items he watched for the word as he walked down the aisle and finally on the bottom row it caught his eye. A series of bags, every one of them emblazoned with the words ‘egg noodles’.

Oh for Gods sakes! Some were thin, others wide, then even more extra wide. Geralt grabbed wide, it was in the middle and looked like what he would like in soup anyway. 

_Got them!_

With that quick note to Rhys sent, Geralt headed off to find the last two things he’d been given.

***

Rhys grinned at his commlink, put it away and steered his cart through the market. He caught glimpses of Geralt, hunting for his items, and found him in the chocolate aisle once he had gotten everything they needed.

Geralt dumped the noodles, milk and tomato paste in the cart after Rhys had declared it all the right kind. He turned back to the rows and rows of chocolate. "Which of these are the kind Eskel likes?"

Shopping with either Geralt or Eskel always made Rhys acutely aware how spoiled for choice they were. Shopping with _Duncan_ did that, come to think of it. There were still traces of the ever hungry ork kid in Duncan, the kid who had never known where the next meal would come from. It was one of the reasons for their exceedingly well stocked pantry.

But seeing this through Geralt's eyes was even more extreme. Growing up in a small village, Rhys hadn't been used to this much choice either but he had had a lot of time of getting used to it. Standing next to Geralt, he studied the varieties and chose one that actually contained real cocoa in noticeable amounts. Expensive as hell, but worth it.

Their groceries paid for and packed into backpacks, they chose to walk to the apartment. It wasn't far and they could take the route through a park. There, the paths were big enough that they could easily walk next to each other. 

Rhys took Geralt's hand, without thinking much about it, like he would take Duncan's, or by now Eskel's. "Tell me if you'd rather not talk about it, but how do you feel? You both do look a lot better."

***

Something Geralt had come to appreciate about London, an unrecognized convenience to everyone else there, were the pathways. Made of concrete, brick, or asphalt they were smooth, solid underfoot, and in most places even— save a few potholes. It meant that he could walk, talk, and look at Rhys without worrying too terribly much about falling on his face by tripping on a stray branch or stepping in a rabbit hole. 

“No, it’s good. I mean it’s not _good_ but we can talk about it, and I feel better. I think he does too.” Geralt kept an eye on Rhys, while he thought carefully about how he felt.

“I did talk to him, like you suggested. He was not surprised at all.” A tiny huff of a breath came with that statement. A bit of the annoyance that despite trying so hard to hide his own anxiousness from Eskel it had snuck through anyway. “I suggested the watcher idea, and he thought that was a good plan. But he’s not going to stay home forever. Which— that’s hard for me.”

“I still don’t want him to go, and as long as we’re here he won’t, so I am in no hurry to go home.” Geralt squeezed Rhys’ hand and shot him a frown. “I won’t argue when he’s ready to head back though. He says even when we go home he isn’t going right back out, that the urge isn’t there _yet_.” It was that yet that got Geralt so badly. When the urge did come to Eskel and he told Geralt he was ready to walk the Path again, it was going to be brutal letting him go.

“And no matter how much I want to, or how bad it scares me, when he’s ready to walk the Path again, I won’t stop him. I couldn’t if I tried.” Geralt sighed and gave Rhys a weak smile. “Sorry. That was less us talking and more me talking at you.”

***

Rhys laughed softly and ran his thumb over the back of Geralt's hand. "It's fine. I did ask you about it, and I wanted to hear this."

"I don't think Eskel is in a hurry to go, not even when you return home. But you're right, trying to keep him from going would be a bad idea. When he's ready, send us a watcher and we will come stay with you for a bit? See him off and keep you company for a while. I'm sure Eskel will be willing to wait for a day or two until we can make it to Corvo."

Pulling his backpack higher, Rhys stepped around two pigeons lazily crossing the path, unconcerned with human traffic. "I hate the thought of Eskel out there on his own, more than before. But with the watcher, you'll be able to hear from him often and we would have a much easier time tracking him down if something happens."

"I'll leave a commlink in the box by the portal. I don't know why we never did that before. But if you hear from him, or if you need anything, you can just call us or leave a message." Rhys took Geralt's hand again. "To tell you the truth, I will feel better if we are together for a while once Eskel has left. I don't want to be in London then. Not for a bit."

***

It actually quieted Geralt’s worrying mind to know he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be sitting alone, a long way from Eskel, anxiously awaiting word that he was alright. And Geralt knew he would be comforted by the orks' presence at Corvo when Eskel first left again.

“I’ll do that. You’re right, Eskel won’t mind holding off a day or two so that you two can come say bye and stay with me.” Geralt swung Rhys’ hand like they were little boys in the park. “And the commlink is a great idea. That way I can reach you so much faster, if something does happen, or just to-” shrugging Geralt smiled coyly, “-let you know that nothing has happened. Make us all feel better.”

“For now I will be happy that he is in no hurry to leave here. Here he can’t go back yet. I am surrounded by the people who make me feel safe and so is he. Honestly whether Eskel realizes it or not I think he needs that right now— people he trusts and routine to keep him steady. I bet, if you two asked, he'd even cook dinner tonight.” Geralt stepped close and purposely bumped shoulders with Rhys. “He made some Cantonese noodles last night he’d seen Duncan make and they were almost as good as Duncan’s.”

***

"He does realise it. And I'm glad we can offer it." Rhys stopped walking and pulled Geralt to himself, right into a kiss. With his hand curled around Geralt's neck, he held him for a moment, pressing their foreheads together. "You're not alone with this, don't forget that."

Another kiss, and he took Geralt's hand again. "Come, we should get the groceries home and see if something appeals to Eskel. I'd love to just sprawl on the couch and not do anything for the rest of the day but watch Eskel cook and then eat. Let's find out if I can get my wish." He led the way to the apartment, eager to have everyone in the same room and around a table again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Info:  
> fluff  
> discussion of trauma


	6. Cloud of Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Duncan picked a last handful of tiny tomatoes off the bush and added them to the bowl. He had filled it with radishes, a pepper and a few carrots before ending his round of the garden. It was right in the middle of the autumn harvest, and they were in luck with the weather. Eskel and Rhys had left for a trip to the zoo, and Duncan and Geralt had opted to stay home and spend time on the roof._  
>  Some leisure time, and Eskel's memories catch up with him

Duncan picked a last handful of tiny tomatoes off the bush and added them to the bowl. He had filled it with radishes, a pepper and a few carrots before ending his round of the garden. It was right in the middle of the autumn harvest, and they were in luck with the weather. Eskel and Rhys had left for a trip to the zoo, and Duncan and Geralt had opted to stay home and spend time on the roof. 

After giving everything a quick wash, Duncan came to sit next to Geralt on the blankets they had brought up from the apartment. With some cheese, this was their lunch and Duncan took a moment to appreciate the fact that he had watched everything grow from a seed.

Biting down on a carrot, Duncan leaned back against the brick wall of the house next to theirs, comfortably warm in the sun. He put a hand on Geralt's thigh, petting him casually.

"You know, I think we worried too much about Rhys. Back in the quarry, I mean. I still don't really like the thought of Rhys being forced to kill someone, but he can handle it. Especially to protect Eskel, or any of us. Not saying that he's callous about it. He's not. But I guess I should have known better." Duncan popped a tomato and some cheese into his mouth and chewed, enjoying the taste.

***

Crunching into a radish Geralt savored the spice of it, the freshness, and the slight earthy taste that still clung to it. “I don’t like Rhys being exposed to that side of things. I _like_ that he is the one of us who doesn’t look at a problem and immediately imagine how to kill his way out of it.”

“But- I never meant to insult him by making him feel like I didn’t think he could handle the truth of us going to kill that patrol.” Geralt let out a sigh, remembering how frustrated Rhys had gotten with him. And how quickly. “He knew right from the start what I was going to do. Even told me to take you.”

“Killing isn’t something he relishes. Put in the right position though and I guess he can do it without it really fucking him up as badly as I thought it would. I never realized a threat to Eskel, or me, would be that position though.” Geralt shrugged at the truth of that statement. 

He had known from what Rhys had said of Bear and his pact, and of his past with Graham, that Rhys was capable of being dangerous. There was always this belief for him though, that with that danger came the consequences of some mental debt for Rhys. Perhaps given the right set of circumstances, in defense of his own life—or Eskel’s—though, the mental debt wasn’t as harsh as Geralt had believed.

Which only made Geralt wonder if he shouldn’t take off the kid gloves when dealing with Rhys and situations such as going after the patrol. Rhys had brought it up, and he seemed to be more than capable of handling the knowledge of what was going to happen. Even if he didn’t like it.

“I don’t know. It’s weird to think that Rhys would seriously harm or kill someone in defense of me. I should give him more credit for what he can handle though, I think you’re right there.” Slinging an arm around Duncan, Geralt bit into another radish. They were addicting.

***

"I think us being in danger makes it happen even faster than Rhys himself being in danger. I'm not sure he would have killed that knight just like that if it was just himself. But he was defending Eskel." Duncan went to pick up some more cheese cubes and caught Geralt staring at him.

"What knight?" Geralt had stopped chewing, a half bitten radish held in his hand.

 _Oh._ It had been chaotic and Duncan shouldn't have been surprised Geralt hadn't seen that. And it wasn't like they had done a post mortem on that fight.

"There was the one he set on fire that you shot. And the one that tried to attack him and Eskel before they had reached the stable. Rhys killed him with a spell, didn't even hesitate. That guy never knew what hit him. And Rhys hadn't even gone berserk. Thank fuck, because he'd have tried to killed everyone down in that pit. I've seen that happen, it's not pretty. That's what really fucks him up after." 

Duncan watched Geralt process all of this and felt a little sorry. It was easy to underestimate Rhys, and to see him as soft and to be protected. It was a mindset Duncan had to remind himself not to take on occasion himself, and he had had much more time and situations to get used to it than Geralt. Doing shadowwork with Rhys had been an education.

***

Mentally Geralt went back over the fight. He had known Rhys set the one knight on fire because _he_ hadn’t and Duncan didn’t have the ability, but he hadn’t really thought that counted. He’d been the one to deal the fatal shot there. 

The rest of the radish made it into Geralt’s mouth and he chewed while he thought about this new information. “I didn’t realize there was a knight that tried to attack him and Eskel.” Geralt paused and then picked up a tomato, turning it over in his fingers and staring at it. “Probably because Rhys killed him before I saw him.”

Boy didn’t that put things in perspective. Here he was trying to be stealthy in his desire to go back and wipe the patrol out, and Rhys had killed a knight where he stood without Geralt even noticing.

“Rhys is… a fierce lover. I wouldn’t want to be in the way of something he loves because he does it wholeheartedly. I think you’re right, he can hold his own. But I don’t want him to _have_ to. I like that we are there for him. To help. To lean on if it does bother him. But yeah, I need to realize he isn’t fragile about _this_.” Geralt popped the tomato in his mouth, pressing it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue until it burst in an explosion of flavor.

“Which will take some getting used to. I would expect you to kill someone for me. To keep me safe. I don’t expect it of him.” Holding up a hand in self defense Geralt stalled Duncan. “I know, I get it. He could and he would. It’s an odd thought though.”

***

"A little, yeah." Duncan grinned and crunched a radish. "Rhys knows how he comes across. And he uses that. Back when we were shadowrunnners, everyone always kept their eyes on me. I was the dangerous one, and Rhys the nice one. Until he was not. It worked really well, _especially_ when Rhys hid his magic."

Pulling Geralt into a hug, Duncan buried his nose in Geralt's hair. "I want to keep it away from him, too. And he's not eager to use his magic like that. But if he needs to—it's better to not argue, and not get in his way. I'm glad he didn't lose it though. That's always tough, mostly because he doesn't pay attention to his own safety much then. Let's hope we don't get to see that, ever."

***

“Let’s.” Geralt’s mind flashed briefly to the blood slick floor and splattered walls of Kaer Trolde’s dining hall. “I’ve seen the kind of Berserker that we’ve got on the Continent. Most think they are fairy tales told to scare children. But they’re most definitely real.”

“In a land of violence there are few fairy tales about fighting men or mages, but there are _dozens_ about Berserkers. Men who turn into bears and tear you limb from limb.” Leaning into Duncan, Geralt stretched his own legs out, hooking one over Duncan’s shin. 

“I know Rhys won’t turn into a bear, but somehow I would be shocked if one didn’t show up.” Tilting his head back Geralt looked up at Duncan with the corners of his mouth quirked slightly up.

The zoo had been both lovely and exhausting for Eskel. The balmy air and the chance to eat their packed lunch within sight of the goat pens had eased his desire to get out of the apartment. To not be _inside_.

But the extra people as they forged their way through the crowds, the way every random loud noise made Eskel jump—not enough to be noticed but enough for Rhys to feel it in his hand—and the itch in Eskel’s back that made him want to turn it against a wall left him feeling totally drained. After lunch at the nearby picnic tables, Eskel purchased feed and went into the goat pen.

It left Eskel warm and happy for a short-lived moment that all the goats cared about him. Wanted his attention and the food he brought them. Sure Geralt, and Eskel, and Duncan cared too, but Eskel had serious doubts if they should care as much as they _did_. It was dangerous for them, and he wasn’t worth it.

Leaving the goat pen and giving Rhys a tired look they decided to head home. The walk got shortened this time by taking a bus. 

The tired empty feeling stayed with Eskel all the way through dinner. Through Geralt and Duncan announcing they were going to go to the soccer fields at St George’s at dark to watch an outdoor movie. Eskel only nodded his head heavily and told Geralt to enjoy himself.

Sometime after they had gone Eskel sat silently on the couch while Rhys read. Frustration still gnawed at him though, that they had all risked their entire lives over his measly one. If any of them could be cast away and the rest go on it was easily him. Why had they still come when the stakes were so high?

“Don’ misunderstand me-” Eskel pulled his legs up and curled in on himself on the couch. Knees to his chest, arms hugging his shins, and chin rested on his knees. “-’cause ‘m so relieved you did. But sometimes I wonder if you should have. Come for me in that pit that is. What if you or Duncan or Geralt had been injured?”

Turning his head to look out at the room Eskel pushed forward with his thoughts. “Any one of the three of you is worth so much more than me to this world.”

***

Rhys put his book away and swallowed down the first sharp _What?_ that was on his tongue at hearing Eskel talk like this. He gave himself time to think about his words while he scooted over to Eskel and put his arm around him, petting his hair.

"Don't say that. It's not true. Not to me, and not to any of us." Giving Eskel a gentle headbonk, Rhys leaned into him.

"I can understand that you hate having been made this vulnerable, and yes, we did all risk injury and maybe more to come get you. You would have done the same, and you deserve it. All of us knew what we were doing, and we planned this so we would be as safe as possible. What else should we have done—leave you there to die? How do you think we should have lived with that?" 

A little sharpness had crept into Rhys' voice towards the end, and he took a deep breath to chase it away and continue in a softer tone. "I know I couldn't have. Coming for you was no choice for me, and I don't think that's a bad thing at all. You're important to me, to all of us."

***

“I do hate bein’ weak like that but ‘s more than that. Bein’ helpless an’ havin’ you hafta carry me out. It weighs you down, puts you at an even bigger risk.” Eskel parsed over Rhys’ words _and maybe more_ the thought of that was terrifying in its own right. Of course Eskel would fight to the death for any one of them but he didn’t expect it in return, maybe from Geralt but not from the orks who’d done nothing to earn such a sentence.

“What if someone had attacked you when I was holdin’ you back like that? I could never live with the knowledge that I was the reason you died. I jus’ couldn’t.” But then that was the same as asking Rhys to live with leaving him there to die. Eskel was stuck in a loop of ugly thoughts and he didn’t know how to escape.

Duncan was right, it had crept back at the oddest time and for no apparent reason. The sadness and feeling that he wasn’t worth it, that it was somehow his fault that he’d gotten captured in the first place and put them all at risk.

Eskel sighed, a pressure behind his eyes building into a steady headache already.

***

"I couldn't live with that knowledge either, and it's why we came for you. We love you, it comes with the whole package. You don't get to pick and chose." Rhys kissed Eskel under the ear.

"You cannot say 'I want you to love me only this much.' You get all of it. And you forget that I fight with my mind. It doesn't matter if I'm carrying you, or have my hands free. I can fight and kill with a thought, and I did. And I would do it again, for you."

Rhys wound himself around Eskel and pulled him into his lap, gathering him up in his arms. " I have no regrets. You are worth this, and more, to me."

***

Rhys’ words hit a deep wound in Eskel. One he’d been trying desperately to keep stitched up since all of this happened. It tore open and there was nothing he could do to stop the flood of tears.

“But- but I don’ wanna _lose_ you. ‘M terrified of that.” Eskel blathered and sniffled, tears rolling down his face and his heartbeat running away from him. Suddenly it felt like he couldn’t catch his breath.

“I do want your love, all of it. Every last bit of it, ‘cause it feels so good. ‘M jus’ terrified that gettin’ to have it all will get you killed someday, an’ it will be all my fault.” Curling up as small as he could make himself on Rhys’ lap Eskel tried to catch his breath as it shuddered out of his chest.

“An’ I know you’re strong. ‘S somethin’ I love about you. I forget that your strength is in your mind an’ not jus’ your body when it comes to fightin’.” Nothing Eskel did seemed to slow the steady stream of tears, or help him recapture his breath though.

The thought that Rhys would _kill_ someone in defense of him. That he had apparently when Eskel was too out of it to process it, was more than Eskel could take. “No one but Geralt has ever given enough of a shit to risk their life for me. To kill someone to keep me safe. I don’ know what to do to keep all of you safe. How to keep you safe from _me_ an’ everythin’ I do.”

Every word gurgled, and Eskel covered his face with his hands. Worst of all, he was worried about keeping them all safe when all he really craved right now, at this very moment, was to feel safe himself. To have Rhys pick him up and kiss his face. Take care of him.

***

Rhys held him tight, and when Eskel couldn't calm down, he lay down with him. Curling up on the couch with Eskel between him and the backrest so Rhys could make him feel protected. 

With his arms around Eskel, Rhys let him cry and petted him, murmuring softly to him. "It's not your responsibility to keep me safe. My life is my own, to do with what I want. It's not yours to guard. Just like your life is not ours to guard. So we let you go out on the Path, even though we worry. But we _will_ be there for each other, you know that."

Burying his nose in Eskel's hair, Rhys rubbed circles on his back with his palms, slow and steady.

***

Having his back pushed against the couch helped Eskel feel less exposed. He hadn’t realized how vulnerable he was feeling without it guarded, and he wormed further under Rhys pulling Rhys on top of him. Sinking into the couch, the weight of Rhys pressed down on Eskel’s chest, stilling his lungs long enough for him to find the rhythm of his breath again.

This was real. Eskel was here in London, and Rhys was on top of him, holding him, petting his hair and touching his face. Rhys wasn’t dead, and Eskel wasn’t permanently broken despite the Flaming Rose’s best efforts. They were here to stay with each other. With Geralt and Duncan.

When Eskel found his hold on himself again, Rhys reached over them and took a tissue from the box on the table, offering it to Eskel. Eyes and nose wiped clean, Eskel’s eyes were still puffy and red. 

Sliding his arm around Rhys neck Eskel pulled him down, bonked their foreheads together lightly. “I know that.” Repeating Rhys’ words somehow made them more real and Eskel exhaled deeply. Put his lips to Rhys’ in a gentle kiss before sinking further into the couch.

Unlocking the door of the apartment, Duncan held it open for Geralt to come in. They had enjoyed the movie, and what would probably be one of the last warm nights of the year, but the look on Eskel's face had stayed at the back of Duncan's mind. Gnawing at it.

About halfway into the movie, he had leaned into Geralt who had been a little fidgety as well. And Duncan was willing to bet he knew why.

"Listen, do you want to go back? This is fun and all, but I'm kinda worried about Eskel?" 

The look of instant relief and gratitude on Geralt's face had been all the answer Duncan had needed and they had walked back to the apartment.

There was light in the living room, dimly filtering under the door. Quietly opening the door, Duncan found Rhys and Eskel on the couch, pushed together to form a bed. Eskel was curled up at Rhys' side, blinking sleepily at them. Rhys had an open book in his lap, and a hand in Eskel's hair, petting him.

"Hey you." Duncan kept his voice down to a low murmur. "Want some company?"

He sat at Rhys' side, leaning into him to take a look at the book he was reading. 

_To come to the end of a time of anxiety and fear! To feel the cloud that hung over us lift and disperse—the cloud that dulled the heart and made happiness no more than a memory! This at least is one joy that must have been known by almost every living creature._

"Bunnys, huh?" Settling down, Duncan stretched an arm across Rhys and found Eskel, let his hand rest on his side. Geralt's fingers found Duncan's there, he had come to lie on Eskel's other side. 

"Do you want me to read to you? I can start over, I don't mind." Rhys held the book poised to close and reopen it at the beginning.

***

With a light kiss to the back of Eskel’s neck Geralt nodded. “I’d like that. He doesn’t look like he’d mind hearing it again.”

Wriggling one arm under Eskel’s head Geralt bent his elbow and let Eskel use it as a pillow, in addition to the fluffy couch pillow he’d already commandeered. Geralt could tell that Eskel must have had a rough moment while they were gone, just from the way he was laying now. 

Dressed in one of the softest dark gray t-shirts that Rhys had bought him, and equally comfortable boxers, Eskel laid on his side curled in with a leg over Rhys’. His arms were tucked in between his chest and Rhys’ body, and a light blanket had been brought up to his waist.

Wrapping the blanket around Eskel’s back Geralt scooted up close and took Duncan’s hand where it laid on Eskel’s side. Resting his chin on top of Eskel’s head Geralt took a moment to take it all in. How soft and breakable Eskel looked, and how they were all here to surround him.

“I love you. We’ll all be alright.” Geralt kissed the crown of Eskel’s head and murmured to him as Rhys opened the book to the front again.

***

Rhys settled down, returning to pet Eskel's hair with one hand. He read out the quote at the start of the book using his sharpest British accent before dropping back into his usual soft lilt, voice rising and falling with the rhythm of the story.

_The primroses were over. Towards the edge of the wood, the ground became open and sloped down to an old fence and a bramble ditch beyond, only a few fading patches of pale yellow still showed among the dog's mercury and oak-tree roots. On the other side of the fence, the upper part of the field was full of rabbit holes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Info:  
> Depression  
> PTSD  
> Discussion of trauma


	7. Walking the Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The ache to go out and be useful for a month before winter visited the north settled into Eskel's bones. He sat on it for two days before saying anything to Geralt._  
>  Eskel goes out on the Path again, but not without everyone spending some time together.

The grapes were turning sweet on the vines, deep bluish purple tones standing out vibrantly in the early autumn sun. Eskel could only muse to himself how right everyone had been. It was simply time and he knew it. Geralt would be busy directing the harvest and then with the Festival of the Vat.

The ache to go out and be useful for a month before winter visited the north settled into Eskel's bones. He sat on it for two days before saying anything to Geralt. And try though he might, there was no hiding the misery written on Geralt's face at those words.

"'S been months." In his calmest most gentle voice Eskel tried to lessen the blow.

"I won't ask you not to go. But can I ask you to wait a few days?" Eskel clamped his mouth shut against the immediate urge to say he'd already waited a few days. He was glad he managed to when Geralt continued. "I want to let Rhys and Duncan know. They want to come say bye. Stay with me for a while."

Swallowing down his response, Eskel cleared his throat and changed his mind about what he'd planned to say.

"'Course. I'd love for them to see me off too." That statement came with some genuine excitement. At the idea of seeing them again.

Coming out of the woods that hid the portal, Duncan blinked in the early morning sunlight. The sun was just rising over the vineyard, casting a clear golden light on everything. The main building of Corvo sat up on the hill, only just visible from where they stood, looking serene and inviting.

The air was cool and carried the scent of dew and soil. Behind Duncan, Rhys got into the saddle and clicked his tongue at Rowan, letting her lead the way. Jasper, once Duncan was seated, followed her and they arrived at Corvo after a short ride up the hill.

Geralt and Eskel were already up and greeted them outside the stables. Duncan hugged first Eskel and then Geralt and thought to himself that Eskel looked much better, while Geralt was trying hard and failing to hide his unhappiness. There was tension between them, but not the tension of a fight. It was to be expected, and he hoped his and Rhys' presence would ease it somewhat.

A little later, they were seated around a table outside with breakfast. Duncan took a sip of his goat milk, still a little warm, and then grabbed two packages from the bag he had kept with him, both wrapped in a piece of cloth.

"We brought you something." He handed one package to Eskel, the other to Geralt, and leaned back, nibbling on a piece of fresh bread spread thick with honey and butter.

***

Geralt wasted no time at all unwrapping his package. Anything that provided a short distraction from Eskel's imminent departure was a welcome gift. And surely if it was something from Duncan and Rhys it would make him feel that much better.

Lifting away the cloth, Geralt was amused by the intricate colors and patterns that decorated the scrap. He would save it and have something made for Ciri out of it, she would love the bright hues that were uncommon on the Continent. Thoughtfully pursed lips spread into a full smile when Geralt realized the package contained books.

Not just any books either, but new books to him, in English, from London. The Haunting of Hill House, Geralt turned the top book over in his hand and glanced at the cover and then the back of the glossy jacket to see that it held a ghost story. 

Geralt had mastered enough by now to be able to read quite a bit on his own, and any word he couldn’t figure out by context he marked to ask Duncan about later. It tickled him to have something to work on, to keep himself occupied with a purpose, while Eskel was gone. 

Peeking underneath the first book to see a second, Geralt recognized the author’s name— Ray Bradbury. Duncan had read him something by the man already. A story with a carnival and two young boys, conquering fear, and the forces of evil feeding on it. It had been one Geralt particularly enjoyed. The chance to read more by the same man was enticing.

Looking up with true gratitude, Geralt got up from his chair and went to Duncan. “Thank you.” He planted a kiss on Duncan’s forehead, right at the hairline of his mohawk— a rare thing to be able to do and only made possible because Duncan was still seated. “These will keep me good company, I'm sure of it.”

Geralt made his way over to Rhys’ seat and gave him a kiss on the top of his head as well. “I mean it. This means a lot to me.” Moving on from Rhys to stand behind Eskel, Geralt leaned over him and spoke quietly next to his ear.

“What did you get?” There was no reason for Geralt to speak up when everyone at the table could hear his near-whisper perfectly fine.

***

“Mmm.” Eskel had waited with his own package while Geralt opened up his gift. But now with all eyes on him, he had no choice but to accept that he’d been given something to enjoy. With exceptional care Eskel untied the thin twine that held his linen bundle together. His nose had already told him it smelled like Rhys. The soft waft of cardamom sneaked through the fabric.

On top of a wooden box was a large bar of chocolate. The kind with real cacao in it, and Eskel’s mouth watered at the idea of it. He set it aside for later. Some time when he could really savor it.

Flipping open the lid on the wooden box by unhooking a metal latch, Eskel discovered the inside neatly divided into six even squares, each holding a metal tin with a label written in Rhys’ neat copperplate style. The words weren’t Common but the Rhys had written them in Glagolitic anyway. A rough translation of English sounds into Common symbols.

In the upper left hand corner was the cardamom, followed by a lemony pepper blend, and a mixture of orange zest and tarragon. Rhys had drawn a small fish under each of those. In the row beneath those were three more. The first of those was a deep red that drew Eskel’s attention— smoked paprika.

“Spicy?” Eskel nose itched the tiniest bit when he lifted the tin to it for a whiff, he could smell the same chemical tang that was often present in the food Geralt liked to hurt himself with, though it wasn’t nearly as strong.

“Nope, not really.” Duncan shrugged. “It would be too boring for Geralt. We’ll put it that way.” 

“Mmm. Alright.” Eskel tucked that tin back in the box and looked at the next. Chinese five spice. That was definitely something from Duncan, as was the next tin which was labeled simply “stock cubes”. 

Sure enough when he opened that tin it was stuffed full of the little foil wrapped cubes that Duncan had taught him could be used to make a soup starter quickly if you didn’t have vegetables or bones and the time to stew them. Some of the cubes were in green foil with a little carrot and onion symbol emblazoned on it, others in yellow with a chicken. Still more in red with a cow, or orange with a pig.

Different flavors judging by the smell. Under the name Rhys had drawn a tiny steaming soup bowl.

“I don’ know what to say, these are perfect. I can tell who included what. An’ I know I’ll use ‘em.” In fact with these in his saddle bag Eskel would think of Rhys and Duncan every time he ate dinner on the Path.

“You drew on ‘em. An’ I can read ‘em. ‘S small, it’ll fit right in Scorpion’s pack.” Geralt squeezed Eskel’s shoulders and Eskel suddenly remembered that he was there. “‘M stealin’ one of Geralt’s shirts to go in there too. Somethin’ that smells like home. I think Duncan’s right, it’ll help me to have a bit of everyone with me.”

The calm and peace brought in by having Rhys and Duncan there carried Eskel easily through the day. They walked around Corvo sampling grapes from the vine and listened to Geralt extoll the virtues of his newest wine casks. How he'd smoked them for a unique flavor this year. Eventually they all gathered around Marlene's table while she served a gigantic dinner. 

At least for a while, Geralt would have someone with him. He wouldn't be alone in his worries. Not interested in being alone or even just with Geralt the night before he left, Eskel took Geralt by the hand and pulled him to what had become the orks' regular guest house by now. 

After what had happened to Eskel, Geralt had put B.B. to work on commissioning an ork sized bed in their guesthouse. Really it was a custom bed as large as the one in the Rosemary & Thyme though, and it easily fit the four of them all for a cuddle.

***

Rhys had gone for a last walk to the greenhouse, admiring the oranges that were still bearing the very last fruits of their first harvest. The mandarins were starting to bear fruit, too, and would be ripe by the time Eskel returned to Corvo.

Walking back to the guesthouse, he found Eskel, Geralt and Duncan sitting on the bed, talking softly. Rhys kicked off his shoes and crawled up on the bed. It was nice to have one that had room for them all and he made the most of it by stretching out with his legs across Duncan's lap and his head in Eskel's.

He didn't want to think about Eskel leaving in the morning, and it seemed no one else wanted to either. The conversation was about elven ruins and Duncan was taking notes on how to find one near Corvo. They had taken to exploring these, and other traces of non-human inhabitants of the Continent. It had begun with trying to find remnants of the orks that used to live here, and by now Duncan had gathered enough information for a book. At least that was Rhys' opinion.

"You really should write that book." Rhys caught Duncan's gaze while stretching out his hand to pet Geralt's leg. "I bet people would be interested."

Duncan finished the rough map he had been drawing and raised an eyebrow at Rhys. "You keep saying that. I don't know where you get the idea that I can write a _book_."

***

Gently unwinding Rhys' hair into his hands, Eskel remained completely engaged in the task at hand while he spoke. "'M not sure why you've got the idea you can't. I have, Geralt too. We've each kept bestiaries, an' I've written down all the special ways to make my potions an' bombs better."

"It's true," Geralt piped in with his own opinion. "The only difference between my Bestiary and say, Adelbart's, is whose read it."

"An' some things are worth writin' down even for jus' one reader— yourself. The peace that comes with bein' able to find the information you have learned, without havin' to search everywhere for it a second time is pretty amazin'." Looking up from where he'd started carding his fingers through Rhys' hair Eskel caught Duncans gaze. "I think you should try it."

***

Duncan opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again to think about this for a minute. He had never looked at it as writing everything down in order for himself. The notes he had taken on what they had discovered existed in a book already but they were scattered, and hasty at times. 

The thought of taking all of it and giving it a proper form was suddenly very enticing, of being able to browse it with an index and maybe some illustrations from Rhys. 

"Mh. If you put it that way." He gave a squeeze to Rhys' thigh. "But you have to proofread it."

Rhys turned over on his back, tipping his head into Eskel's hand to get him to scritch a particular spot. "I'll even do a handwritten edition for you." He didn't want to tell Duncan because that would make him shut down again, but the information and traces Duncan had gathered of orks on the Continent had to be of interest to scholars here. And they couldn't hand anyone a printed book, except Geralt. Who would have to help with translating. But that was a project for later.

"Will you stay here tonight? I would like you to." Rhys looked up at Eskel, and at Geralt. Duncan made a noise in agreement.

***

“I don’ wanna be anywhere else tonight.” The words were exceptionally true, Eskel found. 

Some other time maybe he would have wanted one last round between the sheets with Geralt— to tide him through the long lonely nights of the Path. But not tonight. Tonight he wanted to be piled in the big bed with everyone he loved. Everyone who loved him back. To have the memory of the heat of their bodies next to his to tide him through the chilly fall nights ahead.

It didn’t take Eskel long to strip down to his braies, with everyone else following suit. Soon they were all curled comfortably back in the bed, only under the covers. Eskel found himself and Geralt sandwiched in between Rhys to his back and Duncan who was behind Geralt, one big arm slung under Geralt’s so his fingers touched Eskel.

Eskel wasn’t nervous about leaving in the morning. Not exactly. But he wanted to savor this. Rubbing his face on Geralt’s cheek he gave Geralt a chaste kiss, pulling him into a tight embrace. Letting his fingers crawl up Duncan’s arm while Geralt nosed into his neck with a pleasant huff. Eskel could _feel_ some of the tension leaving Geralt’s body and he was grateful for that.

Rhys pressed in close behind Eskel and it made him want to laugh just a tiny bit. As tightly as they were packing themselves together they might have fit on a regular bed. No, not really. 

Eskel smiled to himself at the thought. It didn’t matter if Rhys’ breath on the back of his neck and Geralt’s on the front combined made him too hot. He would be uncomfortably not warm enough plenty of nights to come, and this, Eskel would take this feeling with him.

Morning would come soon enough. Eskel let his body unwind with his mind and the gentle breaths of everyone around him lulled him to sleep.

***

A peacock on the roof of the porch woke Rhys with its screaming. It was barely light outside, and Rhys turned over again, flinging his arm over Eskel.

He found Geralt awake, and looking like he had been awake for a while already. Rhys smiled and reached out to caress his face, with Eskel all but hidden under the covers between them. Early as it was, Rhys couldn't fall back asleep either, and much too soon both Duncan and Eskel stirred as well.

"Good morning." Rhys pulled Eskel against himself, not ready to let him get up just yet. But since it would happen, Rhys was already planning. "What would you say if we came with you for a bit? Not far, just a few miles. I think I'd have my goodbye rather out on the road and then the ride back to take my mind off of it, than standing here."

***

The request to join him on the road for the first few miles made Eskel smile. That Rhys wanted to come and protect him, even though Eskel knew he didn’t really need it still made his heart swell.

“‘Course.” Eskel pushed his face up into the soft touch of Geralt’s hand on his scars. The smile made Eskel’s eyes twinkle. “You can all come along for a bit, but you hafta turn back by noon. No stayin’ the night with me.”

Poking Geralt lightly in the ribs Eskel turned his face in Geralt’s hand to give it a kiss. “C’mon. Marlene’s gonna have breakfast up soon, an’ I need to shave.”

Geralt unpacked the top half of Eskel’s saddle bag as quickly as he dared while Eskel was busy inside shaving his face. Tucking a small package of candied orange slices wrapped in beeswax coated linen into the saddlebag, Geralt soothed Scorpion with a hand to his flank.

“Shh, be a good boy. Don’t tell him.” Piling all of Eskel’s supplies back into the bag in the same order and placement that he’d removed them Geralt couldn’t hide his smile. Somewhere down the path Eskel would be digging for something and find these. Geralt had gotten Marlene to make them from a few smuggled oranges out of Eskel’s orangery just for this occasion.

Eskel had certainly noticed when they had gone missing and grumped about it for a while. He’d noted the smug look on Geralt’s face and eventually let it slide. Probably under the assumption that Geralt had eaten a few of them. Geralt would never though. Those oranges were special to Eskel and he would only eat them when offered outright.

Back inside and sitting at the table before Eskel came out of their room, Geralt schooled his face. He was less worried now that they were going to ride out for a little ways with Eskel, but the pit of fear still gnawed on his stomach.

Sure enough Marlene served an enormous spread. Enough to make them all sleepy in the saddle when they did finally mount up. Eskel went back over his plan with Geralt, he would send a watcher in the morning when he woke, no less than every three days for this time. Maybe in the future he might stretch it out but for now, Eskel wanted Geralt as comfortable as possible with his absence.

The sun was warm on Eskel’s arms as he held Scorpion’s reins but the morning air still held that fall chill. The ground was still wet from dew. Eskel rode in the middle, flanked on either side by Rhys and Geralt, with Duncan watchfully bringing up the rear. They rode like that, their silence broken by the songs of the birds and the occasional small talk from Rhys until they neared the Silver Salamander Inn in northern Toussaint.

***

They chose a copse of trees for their goodbye, a place where they were hidden from passing farmers and whoever else might get curious about them. It was pleasantly cool under the trees, the sun was rapidly growing hot despite the lateness of the year.

Rhys dismounted Rowan and pulled Eskel into a hug and a kiss, burying both hands in his hair and nestling into him. He placed a hand over the scars, running his thumb over Eskel's lips. "I know you will be careful. And I'm looking forward to being here when you come back, and to hearing your stories." He smiled and placed a last kiss on Eskel's jaw, right below the ear. 'I love you. Good luck on the Path."

***

Fingers resting lightly at the base of Rhys’ skull, Eskel rubbed his thumbs there over the smooth undercut. Hands wandering up to run through the strands of Rhys’ long ponytail, Eskel brought it over Rhys’ shoulder. Without even thinking Eskel brought it up to his nose, inhaling deeply.

Cheek to cheek with Rhys, his scent filled Eskel’s nostrils and Eskel closed his eyes to commit it to memory. The smoke and spice of Rhys’ incense, with a waft of cardamom. Eskel smiled, remembering the spices the orks had gifted him to take along and the cardamom there.

“I’ll come back to you. Thank you, again, for the gifts.” Giving Rhys a hard squeeze before he opened his eyes and drew back Eskel let Rhys see his smile.

Two steps to the side and Eskel pulled Geralt up against himself. Deftly taking hold of Geralt’s hair, Eskel used it to steer Geralt’s head to his shoulder and lay it there. In one smooth movement he removed the leather strip that held Geralt’s hair and sunk his fingers in it.

Kissing the top of the scar that travelled over Geralt’s eye Eskel spoke calm and confident, repeating their mantra in a low tone. “Every three days at least. With where ‘m at, an’ what ‘m doin’. I have your tunic and I’ll be back before the smell fades from it.”

Eskel kissed under Geralt’s eye over the scar and trailed down to his lips to spend his time there.

“Better be,” Geralt mumbled into his mouth, “give me back my tie.”

“Nope. You can have it back when I come back. ‘Cause I will be comin’ back.” Eskel tucked the leather tong into his pocket smiling. Geralt gave him a light thump on the chest but smiled back and let himself be handed off to Rhys for comforting while Eskel waited for Duncan to step up to him.

***

Duncan pulled Eskel into a hug, picked him up for a moment to squeeze him. "We're gonna watch out for Geralt. And you better let him know in time when you come back so we can be there."

He held on after setting Eskel down again, just a little longer so he could bury his nose in Eskel's hair. Letting him go, Duncan cupped his face, let Eskel turn into the touch, Duncan's palm over his scars.

"I think Scorpion's getting impatient." Duncan pointed with his chin at the stallion, who was indeed pawing the ground, apparently eager to be out and on the road.

***

Covering Duncan's hand with his own Eskel took a short moment to enjoy the pleasant heat of it and the intimacy it showed. He loved how easy it was to be close to Duncan in the best uncomplicated way.

"Yup. Time to get goin'. I'll make sure to give Geralt enough time to let you know 'm comin' home." It would be a wonderful thing to look forward to. A house full of loved ones waiting for him when he came back.

Eskel swung up in the saddle, putting his fingerless gloves back on. And then, because he knew none of the others wanted to be the ones to turn away, he steered Scorpion out of the copse of trees. It took a lot not to look back, but this was where Eskel wanted to be right now. The Path called him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content into:  
> fluff  
> some anxiety


	8. Under the Same Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The sounds of Rhys and Duncan getting under the covers twisted Geralt’s attention away from his sour thoughts. Eskel wouldn’t want him to brood._  
>  A first night apart.

Night fell, and their mood fell with it. 

It had been easier during the day. The ride back to Corvo had been muted, and they had hung after their own thoughts for the rest of the day. Each of them had found some kind of distraction, in reading, caring for the garden, for the horses, for the vineyard. 

But now, the fact that Eskel wasn't there, and the knowledge where he was seemed much more unavoidable. At dinner, they had made conversation over the delicious river trout with fresh greens Marlene had made for them, and had drunk two bottles of wine between them. Even Duncan had done more than sample it, and there was a mild buzzing in his ears, and a pleasant heaviness in his limbs as he walked over to the guest house.

Geralt and Rhys walked ahead of him, holding hands. Duncan had fallen back a little to watch them. Almost the same height, slender and lithe, they made a lovely pair. The sight soothed Duncan and he smiled to himself. The smile grew wider when they stopped in front of the door and both turned to him, as if making sure he was still there.

Putting his arms around their hips, Duncan gently pushed them forward. "Let's go lie down. I need to get off my feet."

Rhys leaned into Geralt and confided in a stage whisper: "I think he is drunk. Not used to so much wine."

***

Patting Duncan’s arm around his waist, Geralt reassured him. “It’s alright. I run the vineyard. I’m immune to the wine.”

Somehow Geralt and Rhys managed to shuffle through the door without tripping on another and Duncan brought up their tail, pulling it shut behind him and dropping the wood bar down to lock it. Geralt took Duncan’s hand and tugged at it. Duncan was slow to respond, prompting a grin from Geralt.

“Come on, up the stairs. We’ll let you put your feet up once you're on the bed.” With Rhys taking up the other hand they guided Duncan gently to the stairs.

Geralt motioned up with his hand and Rhys took the lead. With one hand on the rail and the other strung forward to Duncan. Geralt followed up behind them, keeping a steady eye on Duncan’s feet, ever watchful for a misplaced step that might send him tumbling down. 

Of course Geralt _could_ catch Duncan if he had to, he was as sober as a card shark at a Gwent tourney, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. They made it up the stairs without any major disasters though and Duncan plopped heavily on the bed, laying back sideways on it.

Each taking one foot, Rhys and Geralt worked off Duncan’s boots and unbuttoned his doublet. Geralt went to open the windows while Rhys cajoled Duncan into removing the rest of his clothes. For a brief moment Geralt stared up at the stars, wondering which ones Eskel was sleeping under tonight-- alone in his bedroll. A frown creased his face.

The sounds of Rhys and Duncan getting under the covers twisted Geralt’s attention away from his sour thoughts. Eskel wouldn’t want him to brood. Walking back to the bed, Geralt shed his clothing here and there as he went. Leaving it in messy piles on the floor.

Eskel had passed through Belhaven in the evening. There were no contracts on the board, only old news postings. Rather than waste his coin on an inn where there was no work he rode on towards Riedbrune, stopping between the two small mining towns to make camp. In the morning he could ride into town and check the board there.

It wasn’t that Eskel couldn’t have made it all the way to Riedbrune if he had pushed Scorpion. It was that there was no reason to. He didn’t _need_ to sleep in an inn and often chose to sleep under the stars when he walked the Path. The fresh air and night sky soothing his mind in a way a tavern full of strangers staring at his scarred face never would.

Scorpion seemed inclined to enjoy the change of scenery as well, grazing contently nearby while Eskel unrolled his sleeping gear and dug through his saddle bag. He’d eaten quite a bit of wild boar sausage on the ride and didn’t really intend to eat dinner. What he was after was the chocolate bar. 

Meticulously packed away in the middle layers of his pack where it wouldn’t melt Eskel found it and took it out. While he was in there he also took out the tunic he’d taken from Geralt and laid it over Scorpion’s saddle that served as his pillow. Eskel turned on his side and took a deep breath. Closing his eyes and focusing on the smell of Geralt’s blade oils and leather that had seeped into the fabric he took a bite of the chocolate holding it in his mouth until it melted.

Rhys made room for Geralt between him and Duncan and watched as Duncan sluggishly threw one arm over Geralt to pull him close. It was very unusual for Duncan to drink at all, let alone enough to have an actual effect on him. And right now, Duncan was quite drunk.

But not so drunk that he couldn't cuddle with Geralt. Rhys watched as Geralt got comfortable, his back to Duncan's chest and one of Duncan's arms under his head as a pillow. He came to join them, tangling his legs with theirs and nestling closer until Geralt was wedged between them.

Propped up on one elbow, Rhys let his hand trail through Geralt's hair. "Do you want to come with when we go exploring the elven ruins? If the weather holds, we want to go tomorrow. Unless, of course, Duncan is too hungover."

***

The window curtains moved gently in the autumn breeze, bringing refreshing air and leading Duncan into a heavy sigh behind Geralt. The thin slip of night sky that peeked through the curtain still begged for Geralt’s attention. Asking his mind questions about Eskel. If he was safe. If he was upset or worried. Idly, Geralt drew swirls and lines on Duncan’s forearm.

Geralt took Rhys’ question as a chance to distract himself. He couldn’t fathom Duncan hungover. The elven ruins were near enough that they could go and be back before nightfall. Geralt was very used to exploring such places, and he had the Eye of Nehalani which might show them something there that was hidden to the naked eye.

It would also afford Geralt the chance to keep an eye on his orks, while having company for himself. He was loathe right at the moment to let them go.

Purposely lowering his voice to the barest of whispers, Geralt nodded. “Of course. Maybe I can help translate some of the Elder Speech or runes if we find any.” Geralt knew by Duncan’s breathing that he was fast nodding off behind him and he didn’t want to wake him with his words, but talking to Rhys was comforting. It would be hard to sleep this first night.

“And I have a thing--a relic or trinket--that dispels illusions? It might show us something we don’t see, if you or I sense magic somewhere.” It occurred to Geralt that while he was sure Rhys had some way of sensing magic, he was completely unaware if Rhys could do something like dispel an illusion. “I don’t know,” Geralt gave a subtle smile, “maybe you could do that without my trinket but I’d still like to come all the same.”

***

"I've never tried to do that here. Some of my magic works like it does back home, some does not. It's probably better to use your relic. And I want to see how it works." Following Geralt's example, Rhys kept his voice low. 

A glance at Duncan showed Rhys that he was barely awake, but Duncan liked falling asleep to the sound of voices, so Rhys saw no reason to stop talking.

"And my magic isn't really good against spectres and such. They are very different from the spirits I know. I can ban spirits, but I can barely do anything against them. It's a good thing they are bound to a specific place. Duncan and I found some a while ago up in Novigrad and ended up running very fast." It had been a frightening experience, but Rhys had at least been able to protect them for long enough to get away.

***

Geralt smirked wide, poking Rhys lovingly in the chest. “That’s what _Yrden’s_ for.” A light snicker followed. Rhys was quite familiar with that spell by now. “Keeps the spectre in one place so I can cut it down. Also keeps it from disembodying.”

“But of course I will come play Continental monster bodyguard so the real historian here can work.” Tipping his head back, Geralt indicated he was referring to Duncan. “He thinks what he does isn’t important to others but it is.”

And honestly protecting people against monsters was what Geralt did. Before the vineyard. He always enjoyed getting out and doing a bit of it again, in a tame way.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help him in his explorations.” The lazy lines on Duncan’s arm slowed, a snore disturbing the peace behind Geralt.

***

Rhys leaned closer to Geralt so he could whisper, confident that Duncan had fallen asleep. "When he's done with the book, I'm going to get it to you for translation, and then I'll handwrite it. We'll get it bound, and show it to Duncan. And then I want to try and get the library in Oxenfurt to accept it."

He grinned with glee at the mere thought of it. "Duncan thinks no one is interested in what he has to say, but I think he is very wrong. And I want to see that book on a shelf in a library, where scholars will see it and use it."

***

The idea of that sent a thrill through Geralt. Duncan’s work was important. This was history that was otherwise being lost or willfully forgotten and Rhys was correct in thinking that it was of interest to the scholars of the Continent. It was simply that many of them were too delicate to get their feet muddy finding the information first hand. And those who could find it weren’t interested in making it known.

“Oh I definitely think his work has a place in Oxenfurt Academy’s library. I also think we can get it in there. Did you know Dandelion is an honored graduate there? I’ve even sat in on some lectures.” Geralt tumbled the idea around some more.

“What’s better, if we get it in there and pay a scribe to make a few copies, it will make its own way down to the Imperial Academy. Because Nilfgaard always wants what Nilfgaard doesn’t have.” Imagining Duncan’s work travelling all over the Continent made Geralt proud. All from the first few hints of talking to trolls.

“And there’s no real danger to Duncan. Because everyone will assume the author is dead, that I found some loose crumbling research papers or manuscript and translated it from Hen Linge. He can be proud and shy all at once.” Geralt was sure that Duncan would be shy about it too. 

It seemed to Geralt that Duncan always underestimated his own intelligence. He fought the urge to remind Duncan that some people learned from books and some learned from life and one was not better than the other. Sure Geralt spoke more languages but Duncan spoke _English_ and was willing to teach it to Geralt. And that was something special between just the two of them.

Geralt spent another hour at least talking quietly with Rhys about their plans to encourage Duncan’s research and writing. Sleep did not come easy to either of them but it did come eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content info:  
> fluff


	9. The World Behind and Home Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tonight Eskel wanted to sleep in his own bed, with Geralt in his arms, after stuffing himself full of everything Marlene had cooked for dinner._  
>  Home again.

When Duncan came home, Rhys was sitting on the couch with a grin he was barely able to contain. Duncan found himself smiling back. He had trudged across a muddy building site all morning, planning security arrangements. The rain had been persistent, and the wet cold had crept into Duncan's bones. But seeing Rhys was enough to warm him up.

"Want to share the good news? Or are you just that delighted to see me?" Duncan flopped down on the couch, leaning in to kiss Rhys.

"I am, of course, delighted to see you, light of my life." Rhys let his fingers wander over Duncan's eartip, bending it and letting it flip upright again. "How would you like a trip to the Continent? If we go tonight, we can be there before Eskel comes back."

"Please. I absolutely want to be there when he rides up to Corvo. No way I'd miss that for another day of Hide the Security Camera." Duncan's heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Eskel again, and Geralt. It had been a long while since they had last been all together, and he missed it fiercely.

It was almost midnight by the time they made it to Wales. Rowan and Jasper had at first been indignant about being woken in the middle of the night, but had been bribed with an apple each. And they liked going through the portal, knowing that on the other side were more treats.

There was no moon in the sky in Toussaint, but the starlight was enough for them to see by. Duncan would never tire of the night sky here. Back home, light pollution had muted it everywhere Duncan had lived. Just how much, he had never known until he had seen the stars on the Continent, even if they were different and strange. 

Arriving at Corvo, Geralt was already out on the porch, probably woken by the sound of hooves. Rhys was the first to reach him, hugging him with a long kiss. Duncan took his time, petting Jasper's nose before walking up to them. It gave him the opportunity to watch them together and he would never grow tired of that either.

Often, when they were all together, Duncan took time to sit back and watch the others. When they slept together, he was the last one awake, for the chance of seeing them all asleep. These moments were always almost frightening, because they reminded him of how lucky he was. Duncan never could help feeling that if he thought about it too much, life would take it all away. But he still took the time to appreciate it fully.

Rhys reached out one hand and drew him into the embrace. Duncan wrapped them both in his arms, breathing in their scent. 

"We've missed you." Duncan nuzzled at Geralt's neck, placing a kiss under his ear.

***

“I’m so glad you made it back in time. I wasn’t sure. He sent me the watcher a day and a half ago.” Geralt pulled Duncan in hard, wrapping his arms around Duncan’s neck and stealing a kiss.

“The watcher said he was coming from Sodden Hill so I think he should be here sometime tomorrow.” Vibrating with excitement, Geralt practically bounced. “He’ll be so happy to see you here. As much as I have missed you, I’d be willing to bet he’s ready to be back, and missing us all.”

With the entire vineyard in bed Geralt didn’t even hesitate to show all his affections. Hands wandering down Duncan’s body Geralt leaned into him needily. “We should get Rowan and Jasper into the stable and let them settle for the night. Roach will be glad of the company. She’s lonely too, without Scorpion around.”

***

With the horses in the stable, rubbed down and fed, saddles and tack stored, Duncan leaned into Jasper's neck one last time and patted him. "Good boy. See you tomorrow." 

He fed a treat to all of them, and followed Rhys and Geralt out of the stable and into the guest house. Inside, he picked Geralt up easily and carried him upstairs to the bed. "Let's get some more sleep."

Sandwiched between them, Geralt fell asleep surprisingly quickly, and both Rhys and Duncan followed. The sounds of cicadas, and the creak of the house as it settled were familiar and comforting to Duncan, as much as the city hum of London and the noises of their own apartment were.

Rain had started to drizzle down as they woke up the next morning, but it did nothing to dampen their excitement. Marlene treated them to a warm breakfast with porridge, fried mushrooms, rashers of bacon and freshly baked bread. They ate it out on the porch of the guest house, the roof keeping them safe from the rain. And all of them kept at least one eye on the road.

Duncan sat next to Geralt, close enough that he could lean into him at times. The air was a little chilly, and Duncan enjoyed Geralt's warmth at his side. He nibbled on a piece of bread, wiping up the grease on his plate. "I started putting my notes together. About trolls and orks. If you want to, you can read it?"

***

Sopping up some of his own bacon grease on a bit of bread Geralt held it up to Duncan’s mouth. “I would be thrilled to.” Something about the idea of reading about his own world in Duncan’s language was profoundly intriguing to Geralt, and his interest was not feigned.

“I want to know what you’ve come up with so far.” Geralt shared the rest of his plate, he was finding it hard to eat with his excitement and a tiny bit of fear creeping up on him. What if Eskel was caught up again? It was an irrational fear, Geralt knew, but it poked at him like a pestering thorn nonetheless.

Table cleared, Rhys brought out his sketchbook and Duncan his notes. Geralt hunched over them with his side pressed into Duncan’s. There was a rough table of contents starting with Trolls of the Continent. 

Flipping through the loose leaf pages slowly Geralt read about the trolls Duncan had encountered. Some of which Geralt himself had pointed Duncan in the direction of, and then others of whom Duncan had learned by taking the time to get to know the former. Geralt had known some trolls he considered very old in his time, but they paled in comparison to the account of one troll that Duncan’s notes recounted.

One troll Duncan had befriended near Loch Eskallot, Ignat, had agreed to take Duncan to meet an old troll in the foothills of the Mahakan Mountains. One who knew stories of the time when orks lived on the Continent. The old troll lived in a forgotten mineshaft, carefully repairing its support beams as they had always done when it was in use. 

So old was the troll that they didn’t speak Common, only Trollish which Duncan had observed to be an English word Geralt didn’t understand _infrasound_. For now he skipped over that and made a mental note to have Duncan explain it to him. What was important was that Duncan had discovered trolls had their own language.

Ignat translated for Duncan and Duncan took note that there was a time when orks were almost as common as halflings or dwarves were now. But then after the Conjunction they simply vanished.

Geralt mused aloud. “So did they go to another world? Like the Aen Elle?” Glancing up he caught Rhys drawing them and Duncan watching out in the distance on the road.

Eskel was determined not to be late. Not only because he knew the panic he would cause if he was, but because he _missed_ being home. 

Tonight Eskel wanted to sleep in his own bed, with Geralt in his arms, after stuffing himself full of everything Marlene had cooked for dinner. He wanted to check on his mandarins and see if they were ripe and ready to be picked. If they were, he wanted to enjoy one for dessert. 

Eskel was ready to be home for winter. The Path had treated him fairly well. Plenty of rotfiends and devourers. It seemed the people would never learn to properly bury their dead in times of strife. In the middle of it all Eskel had taken a difficult contract to clear an old abandoned mage's tower.

There had been a gargoyle in it and the contract had paid well, on top of him finding some rather useful and rare ingredients inside. He’d also been able to take a few books from the mages shelves that looked like ones Geralt may never have read and that was always a good gift.

Crossing the bridge after The Cockatrice Inn Eskel resisted the urge to speed Scorpion’s trot. At the second split in the road he veered right and pointed himself at Corvo. It was barely past midday.

"I think they simply died out. It was no longer their world, and they got pushed to the edges more and more. Maybe they were tired of fighting it. But who knows, maybe they simply went somewhere else, it's possible. Maybe even in this world." Duncan had sat silently, with swiftly beating heart, as Geralt had read his notes.

The fascination on Geralt's face made Duncan proud, and he decided it had been a good idea to sort and transcribe his notes. He caught Rhys' gaze and smiled at him, a silent admission that Rhys had been right about this.

Running one hand down Geralt's back, Duncan leaned forward on the table, tapped his finger on a paragraph. "Rhys made drawings of that old troll. I want to have them in the book, here. They're very old, very slow. Had stalagmites growing on their back. I'm not sure I've ever met anyone as old as they are."

A movement on the road caught his eye. "Is that Eskel? Looks like it?" Duncan was sure. But he wanted Geralt to confirm it. On the other side of the table, Rhys half stood to get a look, a finger between the pages marking his place in the sketchbook.

***

Geralt was on his feet immediately, out to the railing to peer down the road. Rain slid down his neck and into the collar of his tunic, and he didn’t pay it any attention at all. “Yes! That’s him.” Geralt gripped the railing in an effort to contain the energy building within him. It failed and he broke away from the porch, jogging out into the courtyard.

The fear, the tension that had plagued Geralt since the last watcher came to him, broke apart under his feet in the mud with every step. He met Eskel just past the sign post for Corvo Bianco at a full run.

Eskel wasted no time at all when he saw Geralt coming to him at a run. He gave Scorpion a kick and swung down just before Corvo proper. Wrapping Geralt in his arms, Eskel swung him around, before letting Geralt’s feet hit the ground again. As soon as they did, Eskel covered Geralt’s mouth with his own.

Here at home there was no need to hide himself and Eskel let all the loneliness he’d been feeling over the last few weeks pour into that kiss. 

“Melitele. You smell s’ good Geralt. Like everythin’ I want right now. Like home an’ you, an’ Rhys, an’ Duncan.” Burying his face in Geralt’s neck Eskel inhaled deeply, stealing every bit of scent he could.

“They’re here. They came to see you home.” Eskel’s heart jumped at Geralt’s words. He knew Rhys and Duncan loved him, of course. That they’d wanted to see him home safe with their own eyes.

Some moments it was still a shock though how much that love showed up in Eskel's life. The thrill of not being proved wrong when he wished for it deep inside.

“Mmm.” Squeezing Geralt hard enough he struggled to breathe, Eskel finally let him go. “Let’s go see ‘em.” Mounting back up, Eskel reached a hand down to Geralt. In one graceful sweep Geralt was seated in the saddle behind Eskel. 

Eskel saw no reason to dissuade Geralt from wrapping him in a hug even if he knew Geralt was perfectly capable of balancing without holding on. The touch felt too good to turn down. A smile grew on Eskel’s face, wider and wider as they rode past the stables and right up to the porch.

***

Duncan had waited with Rhys on the porch, not wanting to intrude on Geralt's and Eskel's first moment together. Sketches and troll book safely inside again, they watched Eskel ride up to the house.

Rhys was the first to lose patience and bound down the few stairs to greet Eskel as soon as he got off Scorpion. Again, Eskel was lifted off his feet and Duncan grinned to himself. He caught Geralt's eye who had Scorpion's reins and led him to the stable. 

With a nod, Duncan silently told Geralt that they would take care of Eskel, and appreciated the moment with him. They both knew perfectly well that Eskel was completely capable of walking up to the house alone, and no one would steal him away. But that didn't change how Geralt, and to some extent Duncan and Rhys, felt about it.

Stepping up to Eskel, Duncan wrapped him in a hug and couldn't resist picking him up as well, not minding the poke of the studs on Eskel's jacket. Eskel's smell filled his nose, juniper, leather and a lot of horse, and Duncan breathed it in while the worry of the last weeks fell away. He hadn't noticed how heavily it had weighed on him, but now that it was gone, he was much lighter.

"There's a bathtub with your name on it in the main house, if you want. And food. Marlene has been planning a feast, but we have been banned from the kitchen, so I don't know exactly what it is." Duncan put Eskel down on his feet again and let go.

***

Grabbing the back of Duncan’s head Eskel pulled it down until he could rise on his tip toes and knock his forehead to Duncan’s. “An’ Melitele don’ I need it. I wouldn’ trade Scorpion for all the gold in Ofir but he’s a musky boy.”

Eskel went to take Scorpion back to the stall but he wasn’t there, and neither was Geralt. A glance at Duncan got him all the answer he seemed likely to get.

“Let him. Let’s head up. He’ll find us at the main house.” Duncan nodded in the direction of the manor.

It gave Eskel pause for a moment. He liked taking care of his own horse, it was his job, not some stable boy's. But Geralt was no stable boy and he knew exactly how Eskel would have done it. In the end it was the fact that Duncan thought he should let Geralt that settled it for him. If nothing else, Eskel trusted Duncan’s advice.

“Alright.” Eskel led the way smiling. The rain had turned into a light drizzle that didn’t bother him as he strode to the manor.

As soon as he was inside, before even removing his armored jacket or swords, Eskel found Rhys’ hand and tugged him into another hug. Both arms low around Rhys’ waist Eskel nipped at Rhys’ earlobe.

“Fuck. I’ve missed all of you.” The nip turned to a kiss and the kisses trailed down Rhys jaw to his mouth and Eskel claimed that too. Took the time and the privacy to map it out and remember what every tusk and fang felt like against his own mouth.

When Eskel finally rested his head in the crook of Rhys’ neck, he peeked shyly out to the side at Duncan. “Sorry, I needed that.”

Reluctantly and bit by bit Eskel let Rhys go. Began to strip out of his studded jack and hang his swords up. Peel off his boots. Eskel left the bedroom door open as he stripped down and heated the tub. Sinking into it and dunking his head Eskel let himself slide as low in the water as he could and listened to the sounds of the orks out in the dining room.

The front door opened and closed. Geralt returned and wandered in, offering to wash Eskel’s hair. Rhys brought in a tray with some bread and goat cheese from Marlene, a tankard of ale. Just a taste of dinner they said. And Eskel let the dust of the Path soak off his bones until it was just silt at the bottom of the tub.

***

Duncan and Rhys had opted to help Marlene with setting the table and the last of dinner preparations. Braving the rain, Rhys walked to the hothouse and back for two of the mandarins, perfectly ripe as if they had just been waiting for Eskel. He put them in an extra bowl, together with a bar of rich chocolate, for later.

He took his seat at the table and let Duncan get the others. Geralt bounded down the stairs two at a time. Now that he had Eskel back and was at ease, it was especially noticeable how subdued he had been. Rhys noticed it in himself, a weight that had dropped away, a shadow lifted.

With Geralt already out of the room, Duncan pulled Eskel into another hug. He had missed this closeness a lot, he always did. But he also wanted to say something.

"You don't ever need to apologize for kissing Rhys in front of me. I don't mind. Especially not when we haven't seen each other for so long. It— makes me happy to see you together." Duncan wrapped a few strands of Eskel's hair around his fingers, still a little damp from the bath, and carded through them.

***

Eskel made no attempt to leave Duncan’s hold. It was a solid comfort, real and unique in a way that he lacked even with Geralt or Rhys. Duncan loved him no matter what, and it wasn’t even tied to his sexual prowess, it was just _him_ that Duncan cared for without any other interference.

“Heh. I felt like I might’ve gotten carried away there ‘s all. ‘M normally more subdued about it.” Eskel sagged in Duncan’s arms just a little bit. “It’d been sucha long time though, for all of us. I missed this too. You. I wanna jus’ sit an’ tell you all about my time. Hear about yours while I was gone.”

“‘M glad our happiness makes you happy too, though.” Eskel pulled back and looked up at Duncan, the smile on his face tugging at his scars carelessly, but he didn’t mind and he was sure Duncan didn’t either. “But before stories, I smell dinner.”

Taking a seat at the table Eskel leaned back and basked in the moment. Everyone he needed, all in one room. A quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered to Eskel that he was also safe now. And it wasn’t exactly that he hadn’t been safe by himself out on the Path. He was more than capable of handling himself. Except when he wasn’t because circumstances outweighed him.

With a sigh Eskel sat forward and peered at the spread Marlene had served up. In the center was a good-sized pie with darkly muted blue-green feathers of a peacock standing at attention on one side and what he was sure was the creature's head staring him down from the other. Eskel turned the dais it sat on, and raised an interested eyebrow.

“It’s a peacock pie. Don’t try to eat the feathers like a graceless bastard and you’ll love it.” Marlene winked at Eskel.

“Don’ think I've ever eaten a peacock.” Eskel carefully cut into the pie. The top crust was flakey, but the side and bottom were firm enough to hold the whole piece together all the way to his plate.

“Maybe not, but I know you like your capon. This is even better.” Marlene wandered away back into her kitchen. 

Soon honey baked squash, fried apples and fresh bread joined Eskel’ plate. He waited for everyone else to take what they wanted but no one took a bite. “Thank you. All.” The first taste of pie was as glorious as Marlene had promised, maybe more so given his company.

***

Dinner had been so much food, and all of it had been delicious. They had completely demolished the peacock pie and almost everything else, only crumbs left on the platters. Marlene had taken that as the compliment it was and had left them with cheesecake as dessert. She had also brought in the bowl with the mandarins and chocolate and placed it in front of Eskel.

Rhys scooped up a spoonful of cake, savoring the cream and honey taste. He had put a piece aside for Artrí already, to give him later. Next to him, Duncan was leaning back against the wall, fingers idly playing with Rhys' braid. And across from them, Geralt remained practically glued to Eskel, one hand resting on Eskel's thigh under the table. The conversation and laughter over dinner had fallen into a lull, but it was a comfortable silence of everything enjoying the moment. 

"Will you stay here for the winter? We'll be out of the country for a month or so in a bit, but after that, if you want to come visit, we've got nothing major planned. Or we come here once we're back." Toussaint's beauty was muted in winter, but Rhys liked it that way. 

Outside, the rain had grown stronger and was loud on the roof, rivulets of water spilling from the gutter. But inside, the chill didn't reach them and neither did the darkness. Rhys was looking forward to curling up with everyone under the covers and falling asleep listening to the rain.

***

The chocolate wrapper crinkled giving way to Eskel’s deft fingers. He laid it open with the bar in the middle and then set to work peeling the first mandarin. “Yeah. I’ll be home now. There’s not much work on the Path in the winter. I mean, there’s work, but no coin for it.”

Separating the sections and then peeling the second mandarin to join the first Eskel pondered the options. He loved London, but he also took great pride in showing the orks around the Continent when he could. And there was Duncan’s research and book to think of.

“I think you should come visit when you’re done with your work. ‘S been awhile since you’ve been here jus’ to explore.” Snapping off a piece of chocolate Eskel stacked it with one of the tiny slivers of citrus and popped it in his mouth. It was so sweet he wanted to hum. He savored it, letting the chocolate melt on his tongue before he chewed.

Eskel almost felt bad as he worked his way through the pile of treats that were solely his. He should share. But the others had their cheesecake, which smelled divine, but somehow didn’t hold a candle to his mandarins and chocolate. 

No one looked at all concerned that he was hoarding his dessert, though, in fact they looked— pleased. Like they were glad he was enjoying himself. 

Geralt seemed to read his mind. Leaning over and whispering into his ear before kissing it. “You don’t need to share, those are for you.”

It was enough to set Eskel at ease. No one at this table lied to him ever. Every last bite after that was carefree and as good as the memories the flavors brough him.

“I think it would be wonderful if you came and stayed a bit. I could read some more of Duncan’s notes. Maybe help him find some more ruins or trolls to talk with.” Geralt had moved his arm from Eskel’s thigh to around his shoulder and was now aimlessly petting Eskel’s hair.

Having Eskel this close was such a relief, Geralt found his smiles came easier, his fingers no longer drummed on the tabletop. Even better, Eskel seemed content. There was no tinge of worry to his movements, no jerky movements when something moved suddenly. The Path hadn’t been cruel to him and that left Geralt more lighthearted than he’d expected.

***

"We've been thinking about going to Skellige." Rhys toyed with his spoon, licking the last crumbs of cheesecake from it before pilfering another piece. 

"Not the whole winter. I would open a portal for us to go back here and then to London, eventually. And close it behind us, I don't want to leave portals all over the place here. But a month or two, we could do that." He had done some thinking about that, and talked it over with Duncan.

It would be one of their longest stays in this world yet. They were careful about this, not to get lost in exploring and losing the connection with their lives in London. Neither of them wanted that, and they both always felt the keen urge to return home after a while. But Skellige was new, and promised to be an adventure.

***

Duncan considered a third piece of cheesecake, but instead leaned back and let his stomach settle. "We'd love for you to come with us. It doesn't need to be right now, we can wait. And then go the slow way, by ship."

From what Eskel and Geralt told him, Skellige and Kaer Trolde sounded like a good place to spend a winter, or part of one. It would mean having an extra long winter, and Duncan wasn't fond of the cold, but he'd take it for the company. For having everyone in one place for so long. And the thought of being able to talk to more trolls while he was there, look for traces of orks, was exciting to him.

***

Eskel heard all the words, but he needed a moment to go back and process them properly. Filling his mouth with mandarin oranges in the meantime bought him the precious time he needed to get ahold on how emotional the offer of them staying for so long made him.

When the urge to jump up and hug them both had passed, Eskel swallowed and cleared his throat with a sip of dark lager. Not his usual type but Marlene had served it and it went lovely with his desert. 

“I’d love to have you stay with us for so long. An’ Skellige’s a- ‘s jus’ a special place in winter? There’s never a lack of things to do, or explore.” Excitement at the prospect of being able to show the orks around, like they had when they travelled down from Novigrad so long ago, writhed inside Eskel and he struggled to contain it.

“There’s music, an’ banquets, caves--whole islands that’ve been abandoned for one reason or ‘nother. An’ the people— you’ll never meet people like that anywhere else on the Continent. They will welcome the two of you with open arms. You’ll see.”

Eskel sipped his lager and Geralt planned. They made a rough guess at the timing so he could write Cerys. Comfortable with his interesting new lager and full belly, Eskel watched. The spark in Duncan’s eyes at hearing of a number of ice trolls there made Eskel proud. And the thought of how well Rhys would genuinely fit in, with the respect for berserker cultures and warriors there, along with the Skelliger’s ability to keep secrets, warmed him inside.

On top of all of that Skellige held a host of fond memories for Eskel. Of his own youth on the Path, of him and Geralt, and making things work.

When the beer was gone, Eskel used his better judgement to decline a refill. Rhys had saved a piece of cheesecake and Eskel was sure he knew why. There was one more person he hadn’t gotten a hug from yet. “‘M feeling a bit sappy. An’ ‘m sure the two of you are tired. We should head over to the guest house.”

In the guest house, as it turned out, was not the best place for a bear. One small table got knocked over, but Geralt managed to roll it out of the way laughing while Eskel got his chest bumped by a burly head. 

Judging by the way Artrí smacked his lips politely and looked around expectantly from where he sat at the larger table in front of an empty plate, he thought Marlene was a stellar cook as well. Eskel wasn’t sure when he’d become so attached to the bear, but he knew for sure that Artrí was always welcome in his home. Free to sit and flop his head in Eskel’s lap to get his ears scratched or beg an extra sausage.

***

Rhys carefully placed the piece of cheesecake on the plate in front of Artrí and petted the bear's ears. Artrí took polite bites, three of them, and then licked the plate, pushing it across the table. He sat back with a satisfied growl and headbonked Rhys in the hip. Ambling over to first Duncan and then Geralt to do the same, he ended up pinning Eskel's legs down on the bed with his head until he'd had enough head scritches. For now.

Nose buried in his fur, Rhys petted Artrí. "Do you want to go outside and explore? I'll let you out." 

He let Artrí go down the stairs in front of him because Artrí liked to take them at a full run and Rhys wasn't that fast. Watching the bear amble across the yard and vanishing between the rows of grapes, casually sampling some off the vine, Rhys smiled and went back inside.

The others were already piling on to the bed. Duncan patted the mattress between him and Eskel, smiling up at Rhys. Shedding his clothes without bothering to fold them, Rhys crawled into bed and sank down between them, throwing an arm around Eskel and having Duncan nestle into him from behind. With a sigh, Rhys closed his eyes and savored the moment.

***

Duncan reached out across Rhys to put a hand on Eskel's side, meeting Geralt's hand there. Having everyone back together, after a good meal and pleasant talk and laughter, was incredibly satisfying. It filled Duncan with giddy happiness, so much so he gave a quiet laugh just for the joy of it.

The prospect of spending a month or two with Geralt and Eskel in Skellige, and seeing how happy this made them, only added to his contentment. Letting his chin rest on top of Rhys' head, Duncan caught Geralt's eyes and smiled.

***

This late in the evening Geralt wasn’t worried at all about anyone being scared by the sight of Artrí. All the workers had gone home for the day and the regular staff were both inside for the night and used to seeing strange things around the grounds. At most they would ask him if he knew of a bear on the loose in the morning.

Duncan’s eyes caught his and Geralt's face filled with affection. Intertwining his fingers with Duncan’s Geralt gave a squeeze to his hand. There wasn’t a way for Geralt to put into words how relieved and content he was to have everyone in the same place again safely, so he didn’t even bother trying.

Eskel hadn’t been tired when he suggested coming over to the guest house. He’d only wanted to see Artrí and have a chance to curl up with everyone around him. To feel arms and legs, surrounding him everywhere and know he was cared about.

Now that he was securely snuggled up with all three of his partners on the extra big bed Eskel found himself yawning. The road-weariness of the Path caught up with him and left a dull throb in his body. The thing that did Eskel in completely though was when Rhys started massaging his face.

Coaxing the ache out of his scars, warming them with his hand. Eskel was helpless to stay awake amid that comforting gesture. Had absolutely no desire to fight the pull of sleep. Morning would come, and breakfast with it, but for now— Eskel had not a care in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content info:  
> fluff


	10. Dead Men Walking Fear No Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Wiggling just a little bit in Duncan’s arms Eskel settled in and closed his eyes though he remained wide awake. “So, tell me what you did that was interesting while I was gone? Then I’ll tell you about the gargoyle.”_  
>  Catching up, and then things catch up with Eskel.

Duncan had retreated to the guest house with a book, slowly struggling through the unfamiliar script and language. He was getting better at reading, and spoke Common with an accent that confused people, but could make himself understood. They had stopped relying on Rhys' spell quickly, wanting to learn to actually speak the language. 

People were confused by them anyway, often taking them for elves until they saw the tusks, and Duncan's eyes. If anyone dared to ask, they kept their answers vague. Not from the Continent usually sufficed. 

Rhys and Geralt had used the sunny but cold day to go for a ride and had said that they wouldn't be back until the afternoon, planning to gather late-blooming herbs and having lunch at some inn or other. Eskel had gone to tinker with the alchemy lab, preparing potions and oils to refill his stock. 

After wandering the grounds for a bit, and feeding the goats a few apples, Duncan had picked a bestiary from the library, drawn by the detailed sketches. Sitting on the bed, he nibbled on some hazelnuts and took notes, practicing his own writing.

He looked up when the door opened to find Eskel standing there, bringing the scent of oranges with him. Duncan smiled and closed the book on his finger, patted the mattress. "Want to keep me some company?"

***

Toeing off his boots, Eskel showed no hesitation in joining Duncan on the bed. “You know I never used to notice it so much. I don’ know if it’s ‘cause ‘m gettin’ old. Or ‘cause I met all of you, but I get lonesome for touch on the Path.”

Laying down Eskel fit himself into the crook of Duncan’s arm and covered Duncan’s hand on his side with one one if his own bringing it up instead to rest over the scars on his face.

“You were right, I was glad I took a bit of everyone with me. An’ lemme tell you. Food over the fire tasted a whole lot better with those spices.” Duncan’s hand sat heavy on Eskel’ cheek and it felt great. The weight helped the heat sink in and soothe the ache. “Nothin’ can replace hugs though. Or the knowledge that I could sleep an’ you guys’d watch over me.”

Wiggling just a little bit in Duncan’s arms Eskel settled in and closed his eyes though he remained wide awake. “So tell me what you did that was interesting while I was gone? Then I’ll tell you about the gargoyle.”

***

Duncan put away his book and his notes so he could fully hug Eskel to himself, have him lean against Duncan's chest. He had missed this a lot while Eskel had been gone. Not that he didn't get enough cuddles from Rhys, or Geralt. But this was different. 

Not just because they were uninterested in each other sexually, although that played a part. It was nice to be able to be this close to someone and have it be completely not about sex. But Eskel also understood Duncan in a way the others didn't, just by instinct. They shared a lot of things, approached life in similar ways.

Scooting a bit lower against the headboard after stuffing another pillow behind his back, Duncan gave Eskel a squeeze. "Nothing much. Spring and summer are the really busy seasons for Rhys, and we've already secured a job to go to Scandinavia in late spring for plants. Up north. People there used to be a little like people from Skellige are here, I think."

"I had a concert with the shanty group, that went well. Sold out. Hadn't thought I'd ever really sing in front of people like that, but here we are. The Singhs - you know, the troll with the chickens and his wife - have twins now. Rhys and I got to babysit. It was terrifying. Next time, I'll just come with you to fight the gargoyle." Duncan was only half-joking. He had been so afraid of doing something wrong. It hadn't been helped by the fact that Rhys had seemed nervous as well. But they had managed and had ended up with a sleeping infant in their arms each. At which point Duncan had been ready to fall asleep as well.

***

Eskel smiled in Duncan’s arms despite himself. The image of Duncan with a baby half the size of Zoltan worn to exhaustion and precariously perched on his lap was too good not to want to laugh at. Come to think of it, given enough ale, Zoltan wasn’t much better than a toddler anyway, except someone let him keep his axe.

“Oh!” Eskel smothered his giggles in Duncan’s chest. “I wouldn’t blame you at all if you ran away from that job towards a contract with me instead. I’ve never been around little little ones. Or had the desire to have any. Ciri- she was older an’ still a handful an’ a half. ‘Sides Geralt an’ Yen handled pretty much everythin’ with Ciri. All I got to do was give the occasional sword lesson.”

Duncan’ chest rose and fell in front of him, helping Eskel sink into a calm. It was exactly what he’d wanted. What he’d missed so much. “One of these days, I wanna come to the pub an’ listen to you sing. Pick a booth, have some fish an’ chips, doused in malt vinegar. Grab an ale.” It was on Eskel’s list of things to do next time he went to London under not-emergency-recovering-from-abduction circumstances.

“So the plant trip. Tha’s what you two will be doin’ for the month or so you’ve gotta go out of town?” Eskel was pretty sure that added up, but was asking more out of curiosity than the need for reassurance. Rhys would tell him where they were headed if at all possible before he left.

A nod from Duncan answered that and Eskel thought over his time on the Path.

“I had lots of regular contracts. The kind that are boring but fill your coin bag eventually if you keep sloggin’ at them. Nothin’ too dangerous, or even excitin’ until one little town was offerin’ a hefty reward to clean out an old abandoned tower. First rule of thumb— a tower is rarely if ever actually abandoned. This one sure wasn’t. It had belonged to a mage who supposedly died a long time ago. He had a gargoyle bound to it to protect it and of course the gargoyle didn’t understand or care that his master was dead now.” Rolling on his back Eskel opened his eyes.

“So I went in, knowing that it would be somethin’ bigger an’ badder than they let on just by the pay alone. Sure enough, he fought to the very last moment. An’ then it was like he suddenly realized he was free.” Eskel looked sidelong at Duncan. “Did he leave then? No. It made him even more angry-- at all the time he’d wasted guarding a pile of stones for no one. He decided it was all my fault an’ charged.”

Shaking his head slightly Eskel wrinkled his nose up. “I ended up having to kill the poor bastard out of pity to keep him from attacking every human he saw. He was so angry at the whole race for what one mage did to him.”

***

"Rhys can make small creatures out of stone or whatever he has at hand that are kind of like that. Not angry, but they will keep on doing what they are ordered to do no matter what. But they stop being more than a piece of wood or stone after a few weeks or months. And they are not intelligent. Not aware." Duncan wound a few strands of Eskel's hair around his fingers, thinking about the tiny homunculi.

"There are gargoyles in our world, but they are animals. Probably. Magical creatures, too, but no one made them. Could your gargoyle even have understood that he could have left? Really understood? Are there free gargoyles, that have run away or left after their master was dead? Can they be set free, if the mage so chooses?" If there were, Duncan already knew he wanted to find them and speak to them.

***

“You know, I don’ really know? I wouldn’t have said it was possible before seein’ this one.” Eskel paused in thought, enjoying the way Duncan toyed with his hair for a moment. “‘S not supposed to be— like that one was.” 

Eskel shook his head, still a little bothered by it. “Gargoyles are rare now. They used to be common as cows though. Any mage could draw a pile of stone into a terrifyin’ creature carved of stone. Feed magic into it an’ a gargoyle was born. Err, well, made?”

“The magic kept them goin’, guardin’ or whatever other basic task they’d been given for centuries. Mages here live for that long, but the gargoyles, the magic kept ‘em even longer. Long after the mages were gone.” Eskel looked over at Duncan and squinted one eye, pulling up even his mouth on that side.

“Somehow the knowledge of how to even make them was lost? A mage couldn’t make one today if they tried, an’ ‘m sure they do. Most of ‘em hardened up into harmless stone statues. Scary but in no way alive.” The gargoyle Eskel had been forced to kill had been different though. “It was strange the way this one had that moment of recognition before it got enraged. Maybe. It’s possible if one has stayed animated this long that it has gained some sentience of its own.” 

“There was always debate as to whether they truly belonged in the same class of beast as a golem— which is what it sounds like Rhys can make— or if they are an elementa that the mages were trapping in the body of a golem. If the latter was the case of how they were made then there is absolutely a chance they could understand what freedom is and even crave it.” Eskel was forming a hypothesis. One he desperately wanted to test out now that he had the idea.

“Powerful mages sometimes bind an elementa into a golem. It creates a creature with the intelligence of no more than a golem but the power of an enslaved elemental. I wonder if gargoyles weren’t created in a similar way. I wonder if we couldn’t free the gargoyle somehow?” Eskel watched Duncan’s face to see if he would jump at the chance to attempt this with him.

***

Duncan sat up a little straighter. "Do you mean, still as a gargoyle? Or free the elementa from the golem form it's been forced into?"

He thought for a bit about both of these possibilities. "If we free it as a gargoyle, where would it go? And what do you do if it decides to go on a rampage after a while? If we do try this, we need to have a really good plan. And some magic support. Other than Rhys, I mean. His magic works here, but he can't do some things he can do back home. Especially with spirits and specters."

"But yeah. I would like to try. If we can find one of them. But let's talk this over with Geralt and Rhys. I'm pretty sure Rhys at least will want to see this, and we need all the help we can get there." Duncan wasn't about to run into this ill-prepared, but he did want to try.

***

Eskel thought about it some more and he really wasn’t sure, how it would work, if it would work. “I need to talk to a sorceress. I’ll try an’ see what Keira thinks? ‘M not sure if we could actually pull the elemental back out of the gargoyle, or that would jus’ kill it. I think it must be a magma elemental, ‘cause gargoyles are made of lava on the inside, an’ explode magma when they die, an’ there’s no other reason for that.”

The more he thought about it, the more the idea excited Eskel, intrigued him. This would be a whole new territory to explore and uncover, to write up in the bestiaries as their own discovery. Duncan would get co-credit of course too, and it would be a magical scientific step forward.

As for what to do if it decided to rampage later— “An’ if we succeed an’ it's a free gargoyle, with thoughts an’ a conscious of its own, then later it goes on a rampage, how is that any different from a mage or witcher gone rogue? Someone comes in an’ puts it down, brings it to justice. That’s not on us though, we can’t be held responsible for the choices of a sentient being. As long as we offer it the best tools we can to be free properly.”

“What’s better, more moral or less after all? To let it be, continuin’ as a mindless construct forever until it hardens to stone, to kill it outright for bein’, or to offer it the chance of freedom? I don’ know, I think the chance of freedom is the fairest choice.” Eskel gave Duncan a soft look. Pleased that they could talk like this, that they both had such a passion for exploring these things. And excited at the prospect of giving Duncan a byline in his bestiary.

***

"Yeah no, this isn't about whether to bring it down when it goes on a rampage. But I can't help but feel that we are responsible for it in a way if we free it. It was our decision to set it free, and if it goes on to murder a whole village, I would feel guilty for that for sure. But we can talk about that once we have told Rhys and Geralt about it. I want to hear their thoughts on this." Duncan sunk into the pillows again, and finally decided to give in and lie down. 

He rolled on his side, tangling one leg with Eskel's and throwing one arm across his chest, fingers tracing the scars on his face. "How did the Path treat you otherwise? You're still a bit quiet sometimes. I get it, and you don't need to explain. But if there's anything I can do? Or any of us? You know you only have to ask, yeah?"

***

Eskel found himself feeling small in Duncan’s hold, a bit too fragile for his body at the moment. Laying there, he breathed in and out slowly until the moment passed and he found words again. “The Path was good for me, in a lotta ways. It helped me feel normal at times— durin’ the days— when I was workin’. It reminded me of _me_ , of who I am an’ what I do. That I can still be that person.”

“But at night, it was lonely.” Eskel closed his eyes and concentrated on Duncan’s hand on his face. The comforting warmth of it, big and covering the scars all along the side. “Don’ know. Sometimes I had bad dreams an’ then I couldn’ sleep. I can meditate instead, to regain energy, I don’ _hafta_ sleep, but I like to.”

“Not every night, though. Jus’ some of them. It was-” Eskel thought about the times he’d be making camp and thought he heard a twig snap that probably wasn’t there, without anyone around to reassure him that they hadn’t heard it too each time it had bothered him for hours. “-I was very alone in that way. I could smell Geralt’s tunic, cook an’ eat a stew with the spices, and that was comforting, but those things couldn’t convince me I hadn’t heard a noise.”

Suddenly out of nowhere Eskel wanted to cry. Like a little boy with a scraped knee. “Sometimes I think m’ not alright still, that I never will be.”

***

Duncan pulled Eskel closer, offering a hiding place in his arms. "I'd have been surprised if everything had been fine already. It's normal, what you feel. That you're not alright. It's not been long. Healing takes time."

"But you will be alright, eventually. Maybe not this winter, and maybe not next time on the Path." He traced Eskel's scars, pressing down with his fingertips the way Eskel liked, to massage away that pain. The one he could chase away at least for a time.

"You'll find a place for it. Somewhere to keep it where it's still around but not in the way. Sometimes, you nudge it and it spills all over but once you've found a place for it, it's much easier to put it back." Duncan paused, trying to put into words what he had learned after his kidnapping, through nightmares and panic attacks and hypervigilance. "I guess for now, it's best not to expect too much of yourself. Don't pretend things are fine when they're not."

***

Somehow the words, and kind touch, and Duncan just being there and _getting_ it broke Eskel down. He lost the ability to hold back his tears and they spilled over silently, the only sign the deeper movement of his chest that came with his breaths.

“‘M glad you understand me. ‘Cause sometimes I don’ understand m’self anymore.” Eskel’s sniffles filled the silent room and it didn’t bother him at all that Duncan wasn’t speaking more. His presence alone was a comfort. “‘S hard not to expect too much of m’self when I was made to expect anythin’ short of the best would be nothin’ but death.”

Letting out a long rattling sigh, Eskel took a breath and found the conviction to say something he’d learned about himself when he saw Artrí on the ridge of that pit. “If I learned one thing from all of this, ‘s that ‘m not ready. To die, that is.”

And there it was. It went against every bit of dogma Eskel’d had beaten into him as a youth. Everyone knew a witcher didn’t die in his bed. It was his place to fall on the Path. Every witcher should be ready to die on any contract he took, it was a part of their ruthlessness. Dead men walking fear no thing. 

But not Eskel. 

He loved. And so he feared. 

“I wanna live. I don’ wanna be the one who leaves people behind. Or gets left behind.” Eskel swallowed, throat dry and constricting with emotion. “‘M jus’ afraid. That I’ll lose all this goodness I’ve found, that I’ll wake up one day an’ it’ll all be gone. I wanna feel safe an’ I don’ know how anymore, it was hard to start with. Now it seems impossible.”

Duncan’s hand on his cheek was immensely comforting though. Eskel laid with closed eyes and his head tucked under Duncan’s chin, limbs tangled together, and let Duncan massage away the pain that was physical. “Thank you. For gettin’ me.”

***

"It's so much harder when you care. Thinking that you don't care whether you live to see the next day, that's easy in a way. I've been there. Climbed out of that hole, feel back in. Rhys pulled me out and I never want to go back." Duncan wrapped himself a little tighter around Eskel, careful not to squeeze too tight.

"But I'm scared to lose all of this. All the time. Life can fuck you over so quickly." 

With Eskel still sniffling against his chest, Duncan thought about how to put into words what comfort he had. 

"I don't know. Enjoy what you have now. Take the time for it. No one can take that. And you're not alone in holding on to what we have, that makes it easier. I know it's fucking hard to trust that right now, but it'll come back to you."

***

Everything Duncan said, every word of it, rang true with Eskel. That in and of itself was a huge relief. To have this burden in his mind not only known, but understood.

And Eskel realized, Duncan was right. No one was going to come right this moment and steal Duncan or himself away from the guest house at Corvo. He was safe here and now with Duncan. Comforted with Duncan's touches.

"Think I jus' need to be held." Eskel's words were heavy, exhausted by fear long held. "Keep touchin' my face an' hair?" 

For a long time Eskel drifted in the safety of Duncan's grip. The familiar sounds and smells of Corvo. The calming touches of someone who cared, who loved him and knew what it was to be scared of love too. Somewhere in all of it sleep found Eskel. Restful and blissful in a way he hadn't had in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content info:  
> anxiety  
> past trauma/ptsd


End file.
